


Natural Instinct

by missunderstood88



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hogwarts, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Romance, Teenage Werewolves, Time Travel, Werewolf Packs, Werewolves, lycanthropy, the first war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-14 12:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2191482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missunderstood88/pseuds/missunderstood88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus Dumbledore places a lycanthropic Hermione Granger into the care of Remus Lupin. The only problem is he's sent her back to 1977.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Day After.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this over eight years ago. I found it and, appalled at the quality that my seventeen year old self was so proud of, I set about editing and improving it. Then decided that I really like this story so I want to finish it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

** Chapter 1 – The Day After. **

The first thing Hermione Granger noticed, as she fought her way into consciousness, was the sound of two, distinctly familiar, male voices holding a murmured conversation somewhere above her, and whilst Hermione knew that she recognised both voices she was hard pressed to put names to them in the confusing fog that stubbornly surrounded her mind. The second thing Hermione noticed, as she broke the surface into consciousness, was the nauseatingly strong medicinal smell which alerted her to the fact that she was currently taking up residence in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. The third and final thing that Hermione noticed, as she pulled herself completely into consciousness, was the searing, agonising pain centred somewhere around her right collarbone which was sending off shockwaves of pain that rebounded off of every part of her body. Hermione, slow as her mind was currently working, surmised that this excruciating pain was the reason she was currently setting up shop with Madame Pomfrey

Hermione let out a sigh-like groan as she shifted painfully in the bed, pain rocketing over every inch of her body. The abrupt halt in the conversation going on above her did not go unnoticed, and soon the distinct sound of shoes on stone could be heard as someone marched their way towards Hermione’s bed. Within seconds Hermione had been forced into a sitting position and was smacking and licking her lips in distaste at the foul tasting potion that had been forced down her throat. She blinked blearily at the two men in front of her as she felt the pain on her collarbone dull slightly.

"Miss Granger?" Hermione's eyes quickly found the speaker, her pupils shrinking as her eyesight came into focus. Hermione flinched as suddenly every single one of her senses went into overload; everything around her seemed to be violent and harsh to her eyes; the soft breathing of the two men in front of her pounded in her head; she could almost taste the regret that filled the room when she took a deep breath and the once soft sheets of the hospital wing grated against her bare arms and legs as like sandpaper. Confusingly, Hermione felt her agitation growing, and desperately fought the urge to irrationally lash out at the man in front of her, instead settling for a bemused grimace.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Her voice was hoarse, slightly husky and she shifted uncomfortably. "What happened? Why am I here?" Hermione was struggling to keep the anger from her voice. Every movement of the man in front of her seemed to agitate her, and she could feel rage burning in the pit of her stomach; her hormones seemed to be going into overdrive.

"Miss Granger, I'm afraid you've had an accident …"

Hermione's nerve endings were set on end as he spoke again and she ground her teeth together in anger.

"… It appears you had an encounter with Fenrir Greyback last night …"

Hermione continued to grind her teeth, not bothering to hide the malice showing on her face. What did Greyback have to do with anything? Why couldn’t he just get to the point? _Why_ was she so angry?

"… We had hoped for the best Miss Granger…"

Hermione's blood froze in her veins, and all traces of anger quickly fled to be replaced with an all encompassing terror. 

 "… Last night was the first of three in which the moon is full …"

A lead weight seemed to settle in Hermione's stomach and she could taste bile at the back of her throat.  She could feel her head shaking slowly from side to side

"… I'm afraid you contracted the Lycanthropy virus. We tried everything, Hermione, but there was nothing we could do." Hermione stared at Dumbledore with a mixture of shock and disbelief. This couldn’t be happening.

"I’ve contracted …" Hermione trailed off, her voice breaking and shrill with horror. Dumbledore nodded gravely.

A slight movement to Hermione's left brought her attention to the quiet figure of Remus Lupin who stood watching her with an unreadable expression. He was scared. She wasn't quite sure how she knew; it was like she could smell it, almost as if it were palatable, heavy in the air around them. There was something else there though, something new, yet so familiar, something that felt feral, dangerous, barely being controlled; something that called out to her, and she fisted her hands into the blanket that covered her to stop herself from reaching out to him.  _The Beast_. Hermione was surprised she could sense it, but when she looked closer she was amazed that she had never seen it before - it seemed to surround him; it radiated from him.

Hermione found herself comforted by his presence, almost as if the barely controlled presence of his inner wolf calmed her own. He had suffered through this for years; he knew what was going to happen to her. Hermione's eyes focussed on the faint scars marring his handsome face, scars caused by his condition. There were scars she had hardly noticed before, scars so faint she had never seen them, scars which now seemed to jump out at her. For the first time in their entire acquaintance, Hermione fully appreciated that for three nights out of every month Remus Lupin turned into a Werewolf.

"Will it hurt?" she asked, finally meeting his eyes. "The transformations, I mean."

"Yes." His voice was soft and calm, strained with regret, his eyes intense. She couldn't hold them. Hermione's eyes found a vicious looking scar on the crook of his neck, still slightly pink, as if it were fresh.

Remus stood calmly as she scrutinised him, shivering slightly as her appraising eyes lingered on the scar that had turned him into a Werewolf.

"How much will it hurt?" Her eyes were still focused on the scar; she couldn’t bear to see the anguish in his eyes. He grimaced slightly as he remembered his first transformation.

"It'll hurt enough," Remus said gently, "But the first will be the worst, it gets easier with time." He took a step forward when her eyes dropped to her hands, still cradled in her lap. "Hermione, I don’t know exactly how hard it is to be going through this; I don’t know how scared or confused you are – I was too young to comprehend what had happened to me when I was bitten, and by the time I was old enough to fully understand what was happening to me every month, I had spent more of my life as a Lycanthrope than hadn’t. But I do know that it's going to be all right. I promise you, everything will be fine. "

Hermione lifted her eyes to his again and nodded her head slightly. She was scared; gut-wrenchingly terrified, yet she couldn't help but be comforted by Remus' words. He seemed so certain, and she allowed herself to be assured. He had, after all, successfully managed to navigate thirty three years of his life as a Werewolf.

Hermione's head snapped to her right when Dumbledore took a step away from her bed, her senses and reflexes still in overdrive. Dumbledore smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid I must leave you for a short time, Miss Granger, however, I will return tonight to administer the Wolfsbane potion to you. Would you like me to send Messer's Potter and Weasley to you?" Hermione's heart began pounding again, the taste of bile rising in her throat again. She had forgotten about her friends. What were they going to think?

"Yes, thank you Professor," Hermione replied quietly. Hermione sighed despondently and let her eyes fall back down to her hands, one of which had a large cut running along the palm, and listened to the soft sound of Dumbledore's retreating footfalls..

"I must say, I'm very impressed with how well you're controlling your temper. I find I still have a lot of trouble with mine sometimes." Hermione jumped as Remus spoke. He stood closer to her now, a faint smile on his lips. "If memory serves me right, and at nearly forty it very well may not be, I recall that I was more than a handful at eighteen with my tantrums."

Hermione's eyes flew to his in horror. He’d had thirteen years of experience by that point! How did she stand a chance? He simply stood and watched her with a sad smile on his lips and a strange expression on his face. "I find myself wishing I were eighteen again, if only to better understand how I can best guide you through this. It would appear I am guilty of the most common crime amongst us old ones; forgetting what it is to be young."

Hermione snorted in amusement, he certainly didn't look old, not much older than 30 at least; his prematurely graying hair the only sign of his age. She couldn't imagine him being old.

"Would you like me to remain with you whilst you explain everything to Harry and Ron?" Smiling in appreciation Hermione nodded and pointed towards the chair at the side of her bed.

"I think I could use the company anyway, Remus.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione's heart pounded as she followed Remus towards the room that Dumbledore had offered them; a private room in a secluded part of the castle, where no one would stumble across them. This was just a precaution they had told her, as she had been guaranteed the Wolfsbane potion she would receive upon reaching her destination would allow her to maintain control over herself after her transformation. She was terrified, and Remus could sense it. She could tell by the concerned looks he kept shooting her over his shoulder. It made her feel anxious; she didn't like being so easy for him to read.

Hermione turned sharply to her left, following him down a dark corridor, and a wry smile curled her lips as she considered the fact that had she been without her newly acquired reflexes and speed she would have fallen over her own feet attempting to make such a sharp turn. She had never been what one would call agile. Remus had commented on the fact that she had adjusted to the changes within her body a lot quicker that he had expected her to. The onslaught on her senses was no longer overwhelming, but still highly distracting, and she had quickly adjusted to her new reflexes, strength and speed, whilst maintaining a minimal clumsiness. The over-achiever in Hermione had felt a wry sort of pride at his comment. But now - now she was scared: bone chillingly terrified. Every muscle in her body was tensed and she knew she was affecting Remus, if the new-found stiffness in his posture was anything to go by.

Hermione unclenched her fists, taking a deep breath in an attempt to expel her anxieties. She was relieved when it worked, her muscles relaxing briefly before immediately tensing up again as Remus stopped in front of a portrait at the very end of a dead end corridor. The portrait swung open without any prompting and Remus swept into the room behind it with Hermione in tow. The room inside was elegant and beautifully decorated, and Hermione wandered briefly at what state it would be in in the morning before her eyes registered the figure of Severus Snape draped elegantly over a black armchair with two goblets smoking on the table to his left.

Hermione watched apprehensively as Snape stood, grabbed the goblets and took a step towards her. He stood and stared down at her for a long time, his eyes tracing the planes of her pale face as if searching for some sign of the wolf. His face was carefully blank and he seemed eerily calm as he appraised her. His eyes caught sight of the bite mark peeking out from the collar of her shirt and his mouth curled into a sneer. “My, but you do like to get yourself into trouble, don’t you Miss Granger?” he whispered silkily, and rage suddenly exploded through her. A strong hand on her shoulder pulled her back as she started to lunge forward.

“Hermione.” Hermione stilled at the commanding tone in Remus’ voice, and glared hatefully at Snape. “Why don’t you leave the Potion and get out, Severus?” whispered Remus harshly. Snape’s eyes flickered disdainfully over the older Werewolf before returning to Hermione.

"Wolfsbane is normally taken for two days before the full moon and for the three days in which the transformations take place. However, by adding extra ground Murtlap, it should take effect much quicker, the side-effect being that it may also knock you out, which means you won't be conscious during the transformation," Snape said, sounding almost regretful. He then pressed a thick scroll of parchment into her hands and explained that, due to his work for the order, he may not always be around to brew the potion for her and that the scroll included the ingredients and instructions on the brewing of the Wolfsbane Potion. Hermione only glared at him before reaching out and taking one of the Goblets from him. Looking down, she thought it looked more like the inside of a Pensieve, than a potion.

With a deep breath that proved the potion to be odourless, she lifted the Goblet to her lips and downed the potion in three large gulps. Her face twisted into a grimace of disgust as her mouth exploded with the sickening flavours of Murtlap, Dittany and Hellebore.  She could feel both men's eyes on her as she pulled the goblet away from her mouth and the heat of embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she handed the goblet back to Snape. Both seemed to watch Hermione with bated breath for a few moments, before letting out disappointed sighs at the fact that she had remained upright and conscious.

It looked like she was going to have to go through this.

Snape handed the second goblet to Remus, who quickly downed the contents with a sneer of distaste. The goblet had barely left Remus’ lips before Snape had snatched it from his hand and swept out of the room, leaving Hermione and Remus locked in for the night.

 Hermione ventured a look in the direction of her old professor and was surprised to find his robes neatly folded on the armchair in front of him. Her eyes flew to Remus and she was even more surprised to find one of his hands loosening the knot in his tie, the other working the buttons at the bottom of his shirt. As if sensing her eyes on him he turned his head towards her and his eyebrows rose expectantly. "I would suggest ridding yourself of any clothing you don't want destroyed during the transformation," He explained, not unkindly. Hermione nodded slowly, swallowing hard, and trying not to appear uncomfortable at his disrobing.

Hermione turned her head back towards the window she had been looking out of and began pulling at the clasps of her robe, then slipped it off her shoulders and tossed it haphazardly onto the large table beside her. She made quick work of her jumper and tie, before toeing of her shoes and removing her socks. Hermione looked down at her shirt and skirt and felt herself blush in embarrassment. She looked at Remus quickly before snapping her head back towards the window, her heart hammering; he had been in his underwear, folding his trousers and placing them on the table.

Hermione stiffened when she felt a hand softly grip her shoulder. "It won't be long," He said hoarsely, "Minutes, I can feel it".

 Hermione looked up at the moon which already appeared full to her. She wondered if she’d be able to tell the difference soon. Would she be able to feel it the way that Remus did? The hand on her shoulder lifted and she heard him quietly moving away. That's when she felt it; the tingling in her skin. From the top of her hair, to the tips on toes, she was prickling. Hermione spun around with a gasp and was relieved to see Remus looking out of a window on the other side of the room. His jaw was clenched, and his shoulders were stiff. Hermione quickly shed her skirt and shirt and turned back to the window. The moon was now a perfectly shaped sphere in the sky.

Hermione let out a gasp as the bite on her neck gave a painful throb. Her breathing became laboured as her entire body began to ache, and her bite mark started pulsing agonizingly as it sent shockwaves of electricity through her. She could feel herself shaking violently with fear and pain, and tears were rolling freely down her face. She gave a whimper as Remus let out a pain-filled moan, and fell to her knees with a cry as pain rocketed through her spine and down her legs. Her body was suddenly on fire; it was searing hot pain and it filled every fibre of her being. She tried to block out the sound of Remus' cries in the background, but she couldn't and it occurred to her dimly that it might be her own cries that she could here.

She was stretching; her skin was stretching and changing and the fire that was burning under her skin roared into an inferno. She prayed desperately for the pain to stop. She could feel the force of her screams tearing at her throat, but she couldn’t hear anything other than the rushing of blood in her ears. Mere seconds had passed since the transformation had started but if felt like an eternity as the pain went on and on and continued to get increasingly worse. She could feel her neck stretching and her teeth and nails lengthening and suddenly her eyesight and her sense of smell sharpened even more. The metallic tang of blood was thick in the air.

Hermione cried out again and again, her screams quickly turning to shrieks and just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, an agonised howl was ripped from the deepest depths her body and everything turned black.

 

* * *

 

 

When Hermione awoke the next morning, it was to the familiar jarring of her body that only came with being carried. Her entire body was vibrating with the agony that still seemed to burn beneath her skin, and she could feel the wet trickle of blood on various parts of her body. She vaguely registered the fact she was back in her uniform with a cloak wrapped around her. She blinked blearily up at a familiar face, one that in her confused state she couldn't quite place. Though she decided that he was really quite handsome, and she thought he had pretty hair, and, much to her much later embarrassment, she told him so.

"You have pretty hair."

She wasn't sure, but there might have been several chuckles around her. The handsome man laughed quietly and shifted her slightly, and the agonising vibrations of her body intensified causing Hermione to let out a pained moan before everything, once again, went black.

When Hermione awoke for the second time that morning, it was to the familiar sand-like texture of the hospital wing beds, and in decidedly less pain. With a groan Hermione pushed herself into a sitting position, hissing as several of the abrasions on her body rubbed against the roughness of the bed sheets. Running a shaky hand through her wild hair she looked blearily into the faces staring at her from the foot of her bed

Hermione blinked.

_Sweet Merlin!_


	2. Hermione Arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first 5 chapters of this will be out fairly quickly because all I'm doing is renovating them. Hopefully I can have them all out over the next few days.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think?

** Chapter 2 – Hermione Arrives. **

Hermione stared apprehensively at the curious faces of Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black and James Potter. To her surprise they all looked concerned.

It was surreal; like seeing ghosts, except completely different at the same time. She briefly entertained the thought that she was dreaming, but none of her dreams had ever been this vivid and the pain that was racking several parts of her body was definitely real.

She took a moment to gaze back at them, her eyes feasting over them hungrily as something like grief tightened painfully around her lungs and she suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Sirius hadn't changed much; he was still devastatingly handsome with a bright gleam to his eyes as he smiled gently at her. James was the easiest to recognise; Harry really was the spitting image of his father, who was all messy black hair, charming smiles and kind hazel eyes. His nose was slightly longer, and slightly crooked, but the face was unmistakably Harry’s. Peter was the biggest shock of all; he was a small, slightly chubby boy with rosy cheeks, thick sandy coloured hair that brushed the tops of his ears and big blue eyes that reminded her of a child’s; innocent, happy and naturally curious.

Hermione felt panic rising inside of her. Surely this wasn't real.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" It had all been said in somewhat of a rush, and she flushed as her voice croaked on the rising note of the question, her voice hoarse and rasping. The three boys all broke out into identical grins.

Hermione sunk back into her pillows nervously as Sirius stepped forward and his grin widened into a charming smile as he introduced himself. "I'm Sirius Black."

She knew who he was, what she wanted to know was _how_ he was there.

"That's James Potter," He said motioning to the black haired boy with wire rimmed glasses that Hermione had already picked out as Harry’s father. "That's Peter Pettigrew.” Peter gave her a small wave which he accompanied with a sweet smile. Hermione’s mouth felt dry and her heart was beating wildly in her chest. _What_ was going on?

"And this little ray of sunshine here, is Remus Lupin," said Sirius motioning to the bed on Hermione's left. She turned her head to find a young looking Remus Lupin with mousy brown hair, completely devoid of grey, falling over his eyes and ears and curling slightly at the ends. His honey coloured eyes glared out at the three boys moodily.

Hermione flushed as she immediately thought back to the previous night and the memory of him stood in front of a dark window in nothing but his boxers. Remus turned glowering eyes on her.

"You'll have to excuse our dear Remus here." It was Peter who spoke now, pulling her attention back to the three boys who had, alarmingly, moved closer to her bed, "He turns into a bit of a git for three days out of the month, he's a bit like a woman in that respect." James and Sirius started to snicker. Hermione realised that she should probably be taking offence at the comment, but was still struggling around her shock.

Hermione nearly choked on thin air when she heard Remus call out a nasty "Fuck you, Wormtail," his voice as hoarse and gravelly as her own. She couldn't help the half cough, half laugh that escaped her lips as she remembered him telling her that he had been especially bad tempered during his teen years. She was saved any questions about herself by the appearance of Madame Pomfrey.

"That's enough of that language, Mr Lupin, especially in the presence of young ladies." She heard a loud snort coming from the general direction of Remus’ bed, but she was too awed by the sight of a youthful, dark-haired Madame Pomfrey, who was walking towards her with a warm smile on her lips. The nurse stopped in between her own bed and Remus’ handing them a each a trio of identical potions.

"It'll help with the injuries," She told an apprehensive Hermione, who downed the sour potions as quickly as possible. Hermione couldn’t help but think that her heightened senses had their disadvantages as she fought the urge to wretch. The Mediwitch then proceeded to pull a large bar of Honeydukes chocolate out of her robes and broke it in half passing both of her patients one of the two pieces. She then turned to the small boy who was now stood on Hermione's right. "Peter, be a dear and go fetch Professor Dumbledore, will you?" Hermione was surprised to see a fond smile grace the young witch's face as Peter gathered his things hurriedly.

Peter ran off with a cheery goodbye to Hermione, and Madame Pomfrey left them all to tend to some potions in her office. Hermione shrank back into the bed, nibbling nervously on the chocolate as three pairs of inquisitive eyes turned to her, and the sound of Peter's retreating footsteps rang in her ears. Hermione kept her eyes down. Her agitation was beginning to bubble up again, building more and more with every second they continued to stare at her. She fisted her hand into the quilt covering her legs. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance and she ground her teeth loudly. She could feel Remus’ stare intensify, as though he could hear her doing it and she tried desperately to calm herself.

Hermione's nostrils flared as she breathed in deeply trying to calm herself, and was immediately assaulted by the scent of the three boys who continued to watch her. She recognised Remus’ scent easily; it was of something feral and dangerous, uncontrolled, sweat and something distinctly Lupin that was so masculine it made her toes tingle. It hadn't changed much in twenty years.

Hermione bit into her tongue, as the three boys continued to stare at her, unabashed. She attempted to distract herself from her bad temper by attempting to distinguish Sirius and James' scents. There was a fresh soapy scent which was slightly spicy, but it was much too familiar to her to have been James' which meant the soft, sweet scent was Harry's father.

Hermione’s mouth twisted in disgust. What was she doing? She was sniffing them out, like some kind of _animal_.

Hermione's anger was fairly bursting now, and all the while the three boys continued to stare, the atmosphere of curiosity changing to one of suspicion and challenge. Hermione's control broke, and her eyes flew to the three boys.

" _Stop. Fucking. Staring_."

An angry growl made its way out from where it had been bubbling at the back of Hermione's throat and she couldn't help but let her lips twitch in triumph as she watched Sirius and James take a step backwards and the scent of their alarm flooded her senses.

"Did you just _growl_?" Hermione's eyes flew to Sirius, and she held his eyes in a steady glare, her lips pressed shut. She was saved having to answer by the appearance of Dumbledore who, Hermione was not surprised to see, hadn't changed in twenty years.

"Mr Potter, Mr Black, I believe lessons started ten minutes ago," Dumbledore said lightly. "I suggest you both make your way to wherever you’re supposed to be, before you lose your house any points." Dumbledore stood at the foot of Remus’ bed, watching whilst the two dark haired boys gathered their things and darted from the room with a quick goodbye to Remus and weary looks at Hermione. "How are you feeling Mr Lupin?”

"Been better," Remus replied with an insolent shrug of his shoulders and a quick glance at Hermione. Dumbledore's eyes followed Remus’ and he gave a soft "Ahhh," as his gaze settled on Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I presume?" Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. Someone seemed to know who she was, at least. "Yes, you were brought in with young Mr Lupin here. I was told you were found in the entrance hall in a Gryffindor uniform, and in the possession of a letter addressed to me." Her eyes flew to Dumbledore’s right hand where he held up a folded piece of parchment. Hermione's brow creased in confusion as she looked from Dumbledore to the letter and then to a very confused, very  _young_ , Remus Lupin. Hermione cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Sir, what's the date?" Dumbledore smiled approvingly.

"I believe, Miss Granger, it is September the 23rd, 1977."

Dumbledore had informed Hermione, after ensuring the privacy of their conversation, that the letter found in her possession had been from his future self and explained the reasons for Hermione's appearance; most of which he would not tell her, except that his future self had thought that she might better adapt to life as a Lycanthrope if she were guided by an eighteen year old Remus Lupin. He would, apparently, be better able to relate to her now than he had been at thirty-eight. Or she should say _would be_ , if she were to believe that she had been sent twenty years into the past.

“But, Sir, how can you be sure that the letter was from your future self?”  


“Who else would it be from, Miss Granger?” Hermione’s lips thinned in disapprobation.

“Anyone – Death Eaters!” Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly.

“I can assure you it was from myself, but if it will put your mind at rest to know, I can tell you that the encoding charm that was placed on the letter required a significant amount of effort from me to break, and I flatter myself that there a precious few Wizards who could puzzle me in such a way. As well as this, the letter contained information that no one but myself could possibly know.” Hermione frowned.

“Professor, I really don’t understand what’s going on here? Why would you send me twenty years into the past simply to help me adjust to life as a Werewolf? It makes absolutely no sense.”

“I did not say it was the only reason, but it is the only one I am comfortable divulging to you at the present time. You have quite enough on your plate as it is,” he said with a kind smile. “I think, for the moment, you should concentrate on getting yourself settled into life here. If the changes I have seen in the past twenty years are any indication, then I imagine you will be in for a bit of a shock.”

“But Professor-“ Dumbledore held his hand up.

“You will have to forgive me, Miss Granger, but I must be firm on this. Perhaps, once you are settled and have had time to adjust to all the changes in your life, we can discuss what other reasons I had for sending you back.” Hermione’s frown deepened but she nodded.

“Can you at least tell me how long I’m going to be here for?”  
  
“Alas, I cannot. If I am honest, I am not entirely sure _how_ I will get you back when the time comes.” Hermione felt the colour drain from her face and her stomach heaved dangerously.

“Will I even be able to go back?” Dumbledore gave a small shrug of his shoulders.  
  
“Again, I cannot say. But I shall do everything within my power to _try_ and find a way home for you. I’m afraid that is all I can tell you at the moment.” And with that, Hermione knew that their conversation was finished.

"I would advise you to befriend Mr Lupin and his friends for the duration of your stay, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling merrily. "And do not be averse to using your knowledge of the future to do so." Hermione eyed him wearily.

“What should I tell them?”

“Whatever you would like to tell them.”

“The truth?” asked Hermione challengingly.

“If you are comfortable enough to entrust that secret to them, then my all means.” Hermione sat up, startled.

“You’re not serious?”

"Of course I am serious, Miss Granger, but I must warn you of the danger posed by both your secrets in the wrong hands. Be extremely careful of who you trust. I’m sure I do not need to tell you that these are dangerous times. However, you are already fully aware, of course, that Remus Lupin and his friends are trustworthy and honourable young men, and I do not think you will be able to hide your secret from Remus for very long, especially given that you share a Sire. I do not think that your condition is something that you should keep from them. As for the nature of your appearance, well, I shall leave it up to you to decide what it is you wish to tell them. Good day, Miss Granger.”  Dumbledore left her then, allowing Hermione some time to think in private before Madame Pomfrey came to remove the dividers.

Hermione had no chance that day to attempt to befriend Remus Lupin due mostly to the fact that they both spent most of the day sleeping, attempting to regain their strength for that night's transformation, and even when they were both awake they were too bad tempered for any attempted conversation to turn out well. She just needed to wait a little longer.

Hermione now made her way swiftly down to Hagrid’s hut; she had been told that Dumbledore had placed strong silencing and diversion charms on the hut for the night until a better arrangement could be found. Hermione knew this meant she would use Hagrid’s Hut until she told Lupin and was able to join him in the Shrieking Shack.

With a shuddering breath Hermione stepped out into the warm night air with Professor McGonagall at her side, and briefly spotted Remus and Professor Kettleburn standing at the foot of the Whomping Willow. With a glance up at the nearly full moon, Hermione shuddered, and the tell-tale tingling of her impending transformation danced across her skin. Her heart was pounding.

No Wolfsbane tonight.

Hermione picked up her speed and strode towards Hagrid’s cabin, the tingling under her skin growing more intense with every second. She could hear McGonagall’s laboured breaths as the she struggled to keep up with Hermione, who stumbled into the small hut with a pain filled whimper and heard the distinct sound of McGonagall closing the door behind her. The transformation had started much sooner than she had thought it would. Hermione's heart pounded as she felt herself begin to lose control. She could smell the half-giant’s scent all over the room and she felt her mouth begin to water. Hermione sobbed, blind with fear as pain ripped through her body, and she dropped to her knees with an anguished cry. What had she done to deserve this?

The sound of a distant howl reached Hermione's ears, and unable to control herself she heard herself answer, pain-filled and desperate.

 

* * *

 

 

When Hermione awoke the next morning, it was to find a skirt, shirt and cloak folded on the table in the centre of the room. Hermione winced as she uncurled her body, feeling the tight pull of lacerated skin in the process of healing. Hermione vaguely remembered reading that when Werewolves have no human outlet for their aggression they turn in on themselves, but the thought was banished as she stood and staggered over to the table, desperate for some warmth in the cool morning. Hermione dressed quickly, leaving the bottom buttons of her shirt undone and three deep gashes open to the sting of the morning air as she stumbled out onto the grounds barefooted.

The faint scent of blood that wasn’t her own reached Hermione, and her head snapped up to find Remus Lupin being supported by Peter Pettigrew and Sirius black as they made their way back to the castle. None of them seemed to have noticed her, and she could see James' skinny figure standing in the entrance hall with a piece of parchment in his hand and beckoning to his three other friends. Hermione watched enviously as the three boys gently led Remus up the stairs with concern shining through in every one of their movements. How was she supposed to become their friend? There was no way they would accept her. They already had one Werewolf to worry about, why would they accept another?

Swallowing down a sob Hermione pushed off from the wall of Hagrid’s Hut and stumbled towards the castle, her legs shaking violently as she fought to support herself.

Why hadn’t anyone come down to collect her?

Hermione staggered up the front steps and into the entrance hall, her entire body beginning to shake with the strain of supporting herself. She fell to her knees and released a pain filled whimper as they came into contact with the stone floor. She doubled over onto her hands to support herself. The sound of footsteps stopped and then started again, only, to her horror, they were moving towards her now, instead of away. Hermione tried desperately to move, to stand or crawl but exhaustion had swept over her body and she allowed herself to slide onto her side with a sob. The sound of footsteps continued to grow nearer until finally they stopped half a foot away. Hermione shifted her head and raised her eyes to look at a pair of shiny loafers on the floor beside her hand. There was a soft sweet smell in the air around her, and it was comforting. There was a quick ruffle of parchment before a voice softly said "Hermione?"

It was James.

Hermione simply whimpered in response.

Suddenly Hermione was rolled onto her back and swept up into a pair of strong arms. She curled into the warm body, expelling a shuddering breath and closed her eyes.

She felt safe here.

 

* * *

 

 

When Hermione awoke again a few hours later, it was with a strange sense of Déjà vu. She pushed herself up into a sitting position with a hiss of pain as her battered skin rubbed against the sheets of her bed, and she blinked blearily at the three faces at the end of her bed. No - four faces. Remus had joined them now and was standing between James and Sirius, his white oxford shirt unbuttoned at the top. There before her stood the Four Marauders. These were Hogwarts most legendary Mischief makers. 

Hermione felt giddiness wash over her; they were really there, she wasn’t dreaming. This was real. James and Sirius were alive, Peter was still uncorrupted, and Remus was not yet alone. Looking at them all together was like watching the last piece of a puzzle fall into place, knowing that all the pieces fit together perfectly and the end result was magnificent. There was something natural about seeing them standing there together, side by side, so comfortable in each other’s presence.

Hermione found her eyes straying back to one puzzle piece in particular, Remus Lupin. He stood at the end of her bed watching her awkwardly and she found herself suddenly drawn to him. Hermione didn't know what it was that kept bringing her back to Remus; Sirius was most definitely better looking with a charming smile and strong sense of confidence which Hermione always found attractive. James held himself with much the same confidence and whilst not as handsome as Sirius, Hermione could definitely see the appeal. Hermione had always thought Remus handsome in an understated kind of way but the obvious confidence of his friends was something Lupin seemed to be lacking in. Nor did his face hold the sense of boyishness and innocence that Peter’s face held which Hermione found endearing.

Remus looked older than his friends; the faint scarring across his skin that was visible making him look harder, and if it weren't for the fact his skin seemed to stretch over his broad frame, as if his bones had grown too fast for his skin, she might have been intimidated by him.

As it was, Hermione knew that behind his care-worn exterior he was a soft spoken man, and one of the kindest souls she knew, and would ever know. Hermione's eyes moved back to Sirius, who was watching her from behind a fall of hair, and she felt her face begin to warm. He really was a very good-looking young man. There was an awkward shuffle to her right and Hermione turned to find James Potter shifting uncomfortably. Hermione smiled feeling strangely at peace.

"Hello again," she said and the tension in the air seemed to dissipate almost immediately. All four boys smiled and took a step closer to her bed. "We really should stop meeting like this." Hermione couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as the four boys laughed.

Hermione watched the muscles in Remus’ arm flex as she put his Robes and tie over the foot of her bed and then he smiled faintly as he turned concerned amber eyes on her. "How are you feeling?" his voice was hoarse, much the same as in twenty years time, a youthful whine on the rise of his question that wasn't there in the future. Hermione had to smile at how little he would change.

She flexed the muscles in her body experimentally and smiled in relief. "Fine. I feel absolutely fine. Though, I could use some food," she said with a laugh as her stomach rumbled loudly. Again the four boys laughed, and Hermione thought it was one of the best sounds in the world.

"Do you know what it was that attacked you last night?" All trace of laughter was gone from Sirius' face and had been replaced by anxiety. Remus visibly stiffened. Realisation dawned on Hermione: they thought Remus had attacked her.

Hermione's mind flew in a million different directions as she tried desperately to school her face into a blank expression. Should she tell them? What excuse could she offer? Would they believe her?

_"I would advise you to befriend Mr Lupin and his friends for the duration of your stay, Miss Granger, and do not be averse to using your knowledge of the future to do so."_

They had accepted Remus regardless of him being a werewolf. In fact, they loved him more because of what he was. Why wouldn't they accept her? There was no use in lying to them, it would do no good to lie, and they would figure it out eventually. They obviously recognised the marks on her, and they’d realise what it meant if she started popping up in the hospital wing every month at the same time as Remus. In fact, she’d wager that they would be less inclined to trust her in the end if she did lie to them now.

Hermione looked at the four boys who were watching her impatiently. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "You do?" Peter's voice was breathless, filled with anticipation.

"Yes."

"What was it?" Remus’ voice was strangled, and Hermione swore she could hear the soft beat of his heart as it thrummed against his ribcage. Hermione raised her head and stared directly into his eyes.

"Me."

 


	3. Out of Her Depth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write entirely new scenes to get this chapter to flow better, which is why it's so long. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

** Chapter 3. **

 

The four boys stared down at Hermione in shock and she honestly thought she would have found it funny if not for the desperate pounding of her heart against her ribs, or the rush of blood in her ears which seemed to drown out all other sound. The air was heavy and intense and it made Hermione uncomfortable. She pulled the cover up higher over her chest, suddenly aware that the only thing that was shielding her from them was the flimsy material of her night dress. It was Sirius who roused first, turning to look at James who continued to stare down at Hermione with concern creasing his face. Remus looked uneasy as his eyes desperately searched out everything else but her, but the relief was hard to miss. Peters face was the only one that held any sort of understanding, his eyes strangely intense and unnerving.

"Right," Remus’ voice was still hoarse, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Right, well Dumbledore sent up some clothes for you," he said motioning to the pile of clothes at the foot of her bed, "and we offered to show you up to Gryffindor tower." Hermione nodded in understanding.

"Thank you." She grimaced as her voice broke, her throat still burning. It was going to take a while to get used to this Werewolf thing.

The four boys all moved at the same time, moving towards the door, as Sirius called out over his shoulder. "We'll wait for you outside."

 Hermione waited until they were outside, with the door firmly closed, before she threw her legs over the edge of the bed and jumped down onto the cold tiled floor. Hermione wasted no time in pulling the white, sterile nightdress over her head and dropped it onto the bed. The outfit was comprised of a pair of blue jeans and red, long-sleeve, v-neck top; she chuckled as she spied the name  _Lily Evans_  stitched onto the label of both pieces.

Hermione pushed her feet into her school shoes which had been placed neatly at the end of her bed and made a move towards the door only to stop at the sight of Peter Pettigrew standing staring at her with the door closed at his back. How long had he been there? Had he been spying on her? Watching her get dressed? Rage and embarrassment swelled and swirled in the pit of Hermione's stomach.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hermione was shocked at the sound of her own voice; it had been dangerous, growling out every word. It had sounded uncontrolled, strained, and Hermione realised that's exactly how she felt; uncontrolled and wild.

Another wave of fury rolled over Hermione and she fought desperately not to leap forward and attack Peter. She reached out blindly for something to grab hold of and felt her hand take one of the bed posts into her inhumanly strong grip. She could feel it then; the beast, the wolf, she could feel it inside her and surrounding her. She could feel it clawing and pushing, trying desperately to get out, fighting brutally for control, and wanting nothing more than to see Peter bleed. She was aching with the need for it.

Hermione gave a strangled sob as she jumped back, her had flying to her mouth as the vicious thoughts swirled in her mind, tempting her desire and control.

Peter stood at the door watching her, his face soft with pity, and his body rigid with understanding. Hermione knew without a doubt in her mind that he’d figured it out. Out of all of them, Peter was the first to know.

He gave her one small nod and slipped out of the room leaving Hermione to herself.

 

* * *

 

 

They had missed breakfast by the time they got back to the Gryffindor common room. 

They had all scrambled through the portrait hole and James had walked straight over to the staircase leading to the dormitories.

“Evans!” he bellowed up the stairs and a few moments later the face of Lily Evans, curtained by sleek locks of red hair, appeared over the banister.

“What?” she called back, irritably.

“Come down – new Gryffindor.” Hermione watched as the red head’s face screwed up in confusion.

“New _what?”_

“New Gryffindor! You’re finally getting a room-mate.” Ten seconds later James stepped back as Lily Evans descended the stairs.

“Potter, what on earth are you babbling on about now – Oh, hello.” Lily had appeared ready to launch a verbal attack on James Potter until she had caught sight of Hermione stood awkwardly behind Sirius.  Hermione smiled shyly.

“Hello,” She returned.

“Lily, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, meet Lily Evans,” said James grandiosely. Lily spared him a quick, dirty look.

“I did wonder what was going on when I woke up this morning,” said Lily contemplatively. “There was another bed in the room that definitely wasn’t there yesterday.” Sirius snorted.

“Observant of you.” It was now Sirius’ turn to receive a dirty look

“Listen, we missed breakfast so I’m going to run down and get some. Want anything?” James said commandeering Lily’s attention again with a charming smile and Hermione had to suppress her grin as she watched Remus and Sirius discreetly roll their eyes disgustedly at each other.

“No,” she said sharply, eyeing the arm that James had thrown around her shoulders distastefully.  
  
“Come now, Lily Flower, anything you want: some dark chocolate? I know it’s your favourite. I’ll serve it up on a golden platter and spell out the words I love you with the pieces.”

Sirius appeared to have seen enough of James’ embarrassing flirting.

“Come on Lover Boy, we better get going before Moony and Hermione starve to death,” he said exasperatedly as he turned towards the door and James moved to follow him with another charming smile at a scowling Lily.

“Actually, lads, I’m coming with you,” said Remus moving towards the two boys. “My legs are feeling a bit stiff, could do with a walk to loosen up.”

“Don’t forget the Hash Browns,” Peter shouted after them.

Hermione had the uncomfortable feeling that the three boys were going to talk about her. She watched them out the door before turning back towards Lily and Peter who were stood, their heads bent close together, having a whispered conversation. Lily started nervously when she noticed Hermione watching them.

“So, Hermione,” said Lily as she moved towards one of the loveseats. “Where did you transfer from?” Hermione frowned in confusion.

“Transfer from?” Lily eyed her carefully.  
“Mhmm,” the read head hummed. “What school did you transfer from?” Hermione’s mind flew into overdrive. She hadn’t had much time to put a story together, because, she had quickly realised that, telling these people that she was from the future was completely out of the question. At least for the time being.

Hermione thought hard and her mind went back to a night, six weeks in _her_ past and twenty years into the future, when she had been sat sharing a midnight snack and hot chocolate with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, they had been informing her on the finer points of withstanding interrogation.

_“It’s so easy to get yourself muddled up and caught out when you’re telling lies,” said Kinsley. “The best thing to do is, where possible, stick to the truth.” Remus had hummed his agreement._

_“But don’t readily offer up information,” said Remus with a quick wave of his fork.”If you start throwing information at them, they’ll become suspicious and you’ll end up telling them a little bit too much.” Kingsley’s head nodded in concurrence._

_“You need to stay calm, and not fidget; if you’re nervous they’ll know you’re not telling them everything or they’ll think you’re lying,” said Kinsley._

_“But don’t be too casual about it because, again, they’ll know you’re hiding something,” added Remus._

There had been a lot of talk on how to withstand torture during interrogations, but Hermione hardly thought that would apply right now. She took a quiet breath and moved towards the loveseat opposite Lily but was brought up short when Peter suddenly flopped down onto it. He smiled apologetically at her but did not move to make room. Hermione felt herself flush in irritation and instead moved over towards the lone armchair.

“I didn’t transfer from anywhere,” she told them as she sat down.  From her left, a wave of warmth washed over her, as if she’d suddenly sat down beside a roaring fire, but the fire place was directly opposite her, and it wasn't lit. And what was that smell?

“Oh?” said Lily conversationally, still watching Hermione carefully, as was Peter. “Home schooled then?”

Hermione shrugged noncommittally as she looked to the table to her left and was unable to find anything that might be causing the heat. All she could see were several textbooks, a half finished essay and a handsome, eagle-feather quill. But what was that smell? It was burning her nostrils; metallic-like.

“So what brings you to Hogwarts, then?” pressed Lily.  
  
“Err,” Said Hermione distractedly, still eyeing the table in confusion. “Dumbledore thought it was for the best.”  
  
“Oh? How come?” Hermione shot the read head an annoyed look, suspicion starting to grow inside her.  
  
“Change in my circumstances,” mumbled Hermione, aggravated. Lily nodded encouragingly, a friendly smile on her face, but her eyes still held a shrewd glint as she seemed to watch Hermione’s every move.

The heat from Hermione’s left seemed to be growing in intensity, and a fine sweat had broken out over her brow. The smell, too, seemed to be getting stronger; it was cloying in her throat and making her stomach turn. Suddenly, Lily moved up towards Hermione and was rummaging around on the table.

“What kind of change?” She asked, and Hermione was half tempted to tell her to mind her own business when Lily’s hand twitched on the table and the quill went flying off towards her. Instinctively, Hermione reached out to catch it and her hand wrapped around the shaft.

Immediately, Hermione’s hand began to sizzle and a torturous pain shot up her arm. With an inhuman howl, she threw the pen away from her and a second later found herself on the other side of the room, clutching her wounded hand and breathing heavily. With a snarl she looked up to find Lily and Peter on their feet watching her knowingly. Lily held up the quill.

“It’s _my_ quill,” she explained. “Cost me a fortune; eagle-feather, cherry wood shaft and pure silver grip.”  
  
Silver. So Lily knew as well.

Hermione shot a dark look at Peter whose face had fallen into a mask of pity again. Taking a deep breath she raised herself to full height and curled her injured hand into a fist. “Lovely,” spat Hermione. Lily’s face was quickly softening.

“Is this the reason Dumbledore brought you to Hogwarts?” asked Lily and Hermione stilled.

“Is _what_ the reason?” Hermione growled. Lily paused and pursed her lips.

“Your lycanthropy,” she whispered, just loud enough for Hermione’s enhanced hearing to catch it. Hermione said nothing; she stared at Lily and Peter calmly. “You don’t have to be afraid of us,” said Lily quietly.

“Who said I’m afraid of you?” said Hermione defiantly. The red head smiled sadly at her and Hermione felt another stab of irritation. She didn’t want their pity. Her eyes dropped to the quill still clutched in Lily’s hand and she felt her irritation flare up into anger. “Don’t you think you should get rid of that?” Hermione snapped gesturing to the offending object. “The boys will be back with the food any minute, and the smell of it is making me feel sick. Besides, you wouldn’t want to make Remus ill either, would you?”  
  
Hermione watched in satisfaction as both Peter and Lily’s mouths dropped open, but before either of them could say anything the portrait hole opened and Sirius, James and Remus clambered through noisily, weighed down by plates of food and flasks of juice.  
  


* * *

 

 

Hermione shuffled over to the second, and last, bed in the Dormitory and sat down on it. The silk of the sheets were soft and cool beneath her fingers, which seemed to sooth her feverish body. It had taken her a while to regain control of herself after her episode with Lily and Peter downstairs, but the wolf still fought for dominance; it strained every fiber of her being. Hermione vaguely wondered how Lupin managed to stay so friendly and mild-tempered with all the inner-turmoil. She closed her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath, taking in Lily's scent which seemed to pervade the room, and at the sound of footsteps it started to grow stronger. She smelt, funnily enough, of Lilies.  


"I don't suppose you purposely try to smell like you namesake?" Hermione asked as she opened her eyes to find Lily standing in front of her, holding out a pair of flat boots and a small vial filled with pale green liquid. It would, apparently, ease the nausea which seemed to follow Hermione relentlessly, especially since her close encounter with silver. A consequence of her heightened senses, Lily had told her, but it would ease in a few days.

"No not purposely," Lily laughed. "My mother buys me a bottle of the same perfume every Christmas. I like to wear it to remind me of her when I'm away." She smiled turning towards her bed to grab her cloak as Hermione stood, her feet firmly booted. "I must say I'm very surprised that we not only wear the same size clothes, but we have the same size feet." Hermione laughed as she watched the red-head fiddle with a small denim bag.

"Lily?"

"Mmm?"

"I ... well … how did you know I'm ... well … that I suffer from …"

"That you're a Werewolf?" Lily asked looking over her shoulder, smiling sympathetically, "I lark around with one every day, I suppose it just got to be a habit that I can distinguish his Wolfish characteristics. That coupled with what Peter told me downstairs, well, it wasn't that hard to spot." Hermione nodded. "You're new to this though, I can tell, you don't hide it anywhere near as well as Remus does."

"I knew that Peter knows." Lily nodded, indicating that this was not news to her. "I'm surprised the others haven't realised, it’s not like they're idiots?" Lily snorted.

"With Sirius and Potter, it’s hard to tell sometimes. Remus has his suspicions, I can tell that much at least. But Sirius and Potter are – well – they're Potter and Black, they're completely clueless." Hermione laughed loudly. "Stick them in front of an exam paper and they'll come out with an O, but I doubt they'd get the message about you even if Dumbledore danced naked on the Gryffindor table wearing nothing but a tea-cosy on his head and a sign that says 'Hermione's a Werewolf!' I'm afraid with them two you're going to have to right out tell them!" Lily said, finally straightening up and then turning to face Hermione, smiling.

Lily's smile faltered.

"Speaking of, you still haven’t told me how you know about Remus’ furry little problem?" Hermione's eyebrows rose in amusement, ‘furry little problem’? She’d have to remember that one.

“Oh,” said Hermione startled. “I just …” she faltered and frowned. Lily raised a ruddy eyebrow expectantly. “It’s a bit hard to explain, to be honest.”

“Why don’t you try?” Lily’s face still held the same friendly smile as a moment ago, but something in her eyes had hardened and Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. Lily may have felt that she could ensure Hermione’s silence on the subject of Remus by using her own _furry little problem_ against her, but that didn’t mean that she trusted her.

How did she know? She’d figured it out when Severus Snape, who was currently still a student at Hogwarts, had covered a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson in her third year because her regular teacher, Remus, had been indisposed with his _furry little problem_ , and Snape had had them all write an essay on how to recognise a Werewolf. What was she supposed to say? How else was she supposed to know?

_You can feel it. You can smell it in him._

The thought startled her and Remus’ scent seemed to wash over her all of a sudden as if he had been stood right beside her. She shivered feverishly.

“I can smell it,” She said. Lily’s other eyebrow rose to join its mate.

“You can _what_?” Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

“I can smell it,” she said again. “I don’t know how to explain it, but when he’s there I _feel_ him, even when I’m not looking at him. It’s like… like … like when you meet a relative for the first time and realise just how much they look like you, or how you share a lot of the same characteristics, and you know that you’re related just by looking at them. That’s what it’s like when I’m around him.”

“That’s a bit creepy,” said Lily after a moment’s appraisal and Hermione felt her annoyance spike.

“It’s not something I can help,” she snapped. “I don’t think I explained it very well, anyway.” Lily shrugged.

“Well, if you can smell it in him, then I’m sure he can smell it in you,” she said. “I’m going to say that Remus probably knows, then.” Hermione’s stomach twisted nervously.

“I never expected this,” Hermione said honestly, though she knew Lily didn’t realise exactly what she was talking about.

“Neither did we,” said Lily with a sympathetic smile."Now we better get a move on before these boys head off to Hogsmeade without us." Hermione followed the red-headed girl over to the door. Hermione's tension eased as she realised Lily wasn't going to push or question her anymore as she was too busy muttering to herself. Hermione distinctly heard the name ‘Potter.’

A thought struck Hermione unexpectedly, and she looked over to her new room-mate.

"Lily?"

"Yes?"

"Are you and James going out?"

"Ha! He wishes!"

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione fell into step between Lily and Sirius as the six teenagers stepped out of the school gates and onto the path that lead to the small village of Hogsmeade. It was lovely this time of year, autumn was just setting in, the orange and red hues beginning to overtake the colours of summer. The air was still warm, though a small, threatening breeze assured Hermione that she had made the right decision in bringing a light cloak.

"Have you ever been to Hogsmeade, Hermione?" Sirius asked, moving closer and dipping his head. Hermione scoffed lightly.

"Of course." Five heads turned towards her in surprise, and Hermione suddenly felt like a deer caught in headlights.  "It's quite renowned for its Butterbeer, my friends used to bring me here." It wasn’t a lie. Something clenched painfully in Hermione's chest as she thought of Harry, Ron and Ginny. Were they missing her right now? Were they worried about her? Had Dumbledore told them where he had sent her? She breathed in deeply and grimaced.

The scent of nature filled Hermione's senses; grass and trees, animals, the sweet smell of the air, all of it attacked her, overwhelming her as she breathed deeply again, trying to dispel the dizziness that had suddenly taken her over. The shrill chirping of a bird, once soothing, seemed to shred the inside of her head, the rustle of leaves no longer a whisper. As they neared the center of the village a shrill giggle brought a grimace to Hermione's face and she stopped, placing a hand to her stomach as the pungent aroma of the bakery wafted out onto the street- the smell once so alluring, now seemed to turn her stomach. She swayed slightly on her feet.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked as he grabbed her elbow in an attempt to steady her. Hermione nodded, fighting down another wave of nausea as a strong breeze brought a cacophony of smells and sounds that made her head spin.

"I'm fine; I'm just feeling a bit funny is all." Hermione looked up and smiled reassuringly at the five people watching her worriedly. Except Remus, there was something else there; understanding, a knowing look flirting over the lines of his face. Hermione's heart thrummed as she realised that Lily had probably been right. He had to know. "I think I just need to sit down, you lot go on, I'm just going to enjoy the fresh air." She removed her arm from Sirius' grip and moved on towards a nearby bench, calling out reassurances over her shoulder.

She sighed in relief as she heard the faint shuffle of feet as they moved away. As she listened carefully, she realised some of them were moving off in different directions. There was a small bench up ahead, barely big enough for two people, surrounded by a grouping of small trees and Hermione sighed happily as the fresh scent of wet grass and leaves rushed any nausea from her body. It wasn't until she had taken a seat and sorted her cloak that she realised someone had followed her.

Remus was stood a short distance away, his hands shoved into his pockets, watching her through concern filled eyes. Hermione smiled faintly.

"I didn't hear you following me," She said quietly. Remus smiled softly.

"I'm very light on my feet." He cocked his head to the side as he seemed to asses her. "I wanted to make sure you were all right. I was wondering if I could sit with you for a while," he said motioning to the seat beside Hermione. She smiled acquiescently.

"Of course."

In the end that was exactly what they did, they sat together and talked sparingly of lessons and the weather and how they had spent their summers, and in the end Hermione was glad for the company. Remus never questioned her about her friends or her family, never asked her where she was from, and never let on he knew her secret. It was late when the other four returned in pairs, and the six made their way back to Gryffindor tower, Hermione feeling strangely at peace.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione and Lily sat, each curled into a corner of the small loveseat they were on, with Peter on the floor at their feet, all of them picking at Peters large bag of Honeydukes sweets. Sirius and James were spread out on the floor before the fire playing a very noisy game of chess, and Remus was spread out on the loveseat opposite them, eyes moving rapidly back and forth across the pages of the book he held in his, Hermione now noticed, rather elegant fingers. Sirius, James and Remus as it was, were sat far enough away, and there was enough ambient noise in the room, that Lily and Peter could, much to Hermione's great amusement, quietly plan out ways Hermione could tell the other three.

"You'll have to let them think they figured it out themselves," Peter said matter-of-factly, "Or they'll never trust you, it would seem suspicious that you'd just decided to trust a bunch of strangers- and we better do it quick!" Hermione cocked her head.

"Why's that?" Peter grinned up at her.

“You’ll need to tell them before the next full moon.” Peter frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, they’d probably figure it out for themselves and all, but they’ll start feeling protective of Remus in the run up in case they think you’ve clocked on about him and they can turn pretty nasty when it comes to their friends being threatened.”

“And what about you?” Hermione asked playfully.

"I've got something to hold against you if you're untrustworthy. And it's not something you willingly told me, though you didn't seem to be hiding it, but I still figured it out for myself," Peter informed her proudly. "Besides Lily seems to like you, and if nothing else, I trust her judge of character," he said, smiling fondly up at Lily, who smiled back and ruffled his blonde hair, much to his annoyance. Hermione felt a painful pull at her heart as she watched the two friends interact, the knowledge that in three years time he would betray them to Voldemort heavy in her stomach. What had gone so wrong?

“I never expected to have to tell so many people,” said Hermione softly. “It just seems a bit dangerous having so many people know.” Sirius had looked up from his chess game and was eyeing the three of them suspiciously. She felt Peter tense up against her foot.

“What’s dangerous?” asked Sirius. There was a moment of tense silence as Hermione thought desperately for something to say.

"Ha! Marauders laugh in the face of danger!" exclaimed Peter suddenly. Hermione and Lily giggled as Peter jumped up from his place at their feet and began to wave around an imaginary sword. "Danger fears me!" he turned and thrust his imaginary sword at Sirius who jumped up, his own imaginary sword in hand, his cry of "En garde," somewhat hidden under James' anguished cry as the chess board went flying. Hermione's giggles intensified.

Suddenly James was on his feet, swearing revenge for his defeated Chess board, and so ensued, what Hermione could only call, a Jig, as the three boys proceeded to sword fight with each other, forcing Hermione and Lily away from their seats, to pile in on either side of Remus, as the boys fell about dramatically.

A soft snort to Hermione's left brought her attention away from the dancing boys and to the handsome, soft spoken man sat so close to her. He seemed not to have noticed her, nor did he seem bothered by their close proximity, his eyes focused solely on the three boys who were now rolling around on the ground. Hermione allowed herself a moment's assessment, which to her chagrin, lasted more than a moment.

He really was quite a beautiful young man.

Hermione's eyes traced the faint scars across his face, stretched and pink as he smiled and laughed, and she shivered as butterflies seemed to materialise in her stomach. His skin was hot against her arm, or maybe it was her skin that was warm – she couldn't tell. His neck was long and smooth, save for a large pink scar that looked as if it were still fresh. A scar she recognised from twenty years in the future.

Hermione fingered the side of her neck where a very similar mark was still healing, throbbing under her touch. She could feel the blood rushing under her fingertips, as her heart began to beat faster. She continued to stare at the scar on his neck, a hungry look in her eyes, suddenly wishing she could reach out and touch it. Heat was spreading throughout her body, radiating off of her and Hermione was suddenly aware of just how warm her skin was. She was also suddenly aware of just how close she was sitting to Remus. He must be able to feel it … to smell the heat …

Sure enough his own skin was turning pink, his eyes darting to watch her out the corner of his eye, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in heavily. Hermione shifted uncomfortably and her arm rubbed against his, skin against skin, sending a rush of heat through her body. Remus shifted his hips, his body heat suddenly pervading her, and his thigh rubbed against her own. Hermione stilled as she felt the pressure of his leg rest against hers and she bit down on her lip.

She gripped her knees tightly in an attempt to calm the slight tremble that had started up across her body. She needed to get out of there.

Hermione jumped up frantically, suddenly aware of five pairs of eyes on her. Everyone but Remus was watching her curiously, but he sat there with an unreadable expression on his face, looking up at her.

With a mumbled excuse, Hermione dashed up the staircase and into the girls dormitory where she collapsed onto her bed and tried desperately to calm the pounding of her heart.

What had happened down there?

 

* * *

 

 

It was late. That much Hermione knew.

She tried very hard to stifle a groan as she stared despondently up at the dark red canopy above her head. The position of her bed against the back wall afforded her a perfect view out of one of the large windows where the night sky was perfectly clear; thousands of stars glittering in the blackness, and the newly waning moon looked unnaturally big. And yet, Hermione's eyes were blind to the wonders of the night sky as she replayed the events of that evening in her head.

He had looked so handsome, and he had smelt wonderful, and the way his skin had turned pink, the butterflies in her stomach.

It’s not like she was attracted to him, she hardly knew him. Well, that wasn’t true, she did know him, and she had known him for five years. But that had been a different man, wiser; someone who had been a lot older than the seventeen year-old she was suddenly faced with. Still, they were the same person. Even if she was attracted to him, it’s not like she could do anything about it; he’d been her professor. Except that, he hadn’t. Not yet, at least.

Hermione rolled on to her side to face Lily and the door. Lily was spread out on her front, mouth hanging open slightly, and snoring softly. Hermione sighed again and sat up, moving to stand on the rug at the side of her bed. She knew sleep would not be visiting her that night.

The door, surprisingly, made no noise when she opened it and slipped out, her feet patting softly against the stone steps. Hermione quickly shuffled past the Gryffindor boys' dormitory entrance and down the stairs into the deserted Common Room, where the fire was still cackling merrily. The room was warm, the faint scent of mingled sweat hanging in the air, the carpet rough and comforting beneath her feet. She moved to stand in front of the fire, reveling in its warmth, in the soft comfort it offered her.

"Am I to deduce you're having trouble sleeping, Miss Granger??" Hermione spun to find a slightly dishevelled Professor McGonagall standing just inside the open portrait of Godric Gryffindor, wrapped up in her matching tartan housecoat and slippers.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione exclaimed, "I'm sorry, am I not supposed to be out of my room?"

"When you go to bed is a choice we leave to you, Miss Granger, as long as you do not seek to leave Gryffindor Tower after curfew," McGonagall told her, stepping through the portrait to move into the warm common room. "I saw you were in the common room and thought I'd see how you're getting along. You've been here for a couple of days now." Hermione shrugged.

"I'm not entirely sure, Professor," Hermione told her, "Everyone I've met has been a big shock, they're not what I expected, but they've been so friendly. However, I do miss my friends." McGonagall smiled.

"I should think you could find something of them here." Hermione laughed.

"Yes, I have, though it hasn't comforted me. What friends I had that are here now are so much different from how I knew … _will_ know them, and whilst James is so much like Harry, I know it isn't him. It's hard making friends all over again," She said anxiety thick in her voice.

"They are a good bunch, troublemakers to the last, but they are good, honourable people, as you no doubt know and they won't leave you to fend for yourself. You'll be an honorary Marauder before the next full moon, I promise you." McGonagall smiled kindly at her, "Speaking of full moons, I don't suppose you've informed your House-mates of your predicament yet, Miss Granger?"

"Lily Evans and Peter Pettigrew know. They figured it out before I had a chance to tell them, and I have my suspicions Lupin knows as well." Professor McGonagall nodded.

"Yes, Potter and Black are idiots, you'll have a lot more trouble getting them to realise." Hermione chuckled. "Now if you'll excuse me Miss Granger, I believe it is time for an old woman to go to bed." With a last smile at Hermione, McGonagall disappeared through the portrait, closing it with a soft click.

She stared at the portrait of the sleeping Godric Gryffindor for several minutes, a cold breeze breaking in through her trance and forcing her back in front of the fire. 

"Can't sleep either, I take it?" Hermione had to congratulate herself on not showing any outward signs that he had scared her, all the while her heart was doing something akin to the Highland fling. She turned towards to staircase leading up to the Dormitories to find Remus Lupin stood at the foot of the stairs, still in his clothes, looking slightly dishevelled, and his hair attractively ruffled.

Hermione felt herself flushing. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Err … no I can't, different bed and all." She smiled nervously as he moved towards her. He smelt wonderful. With no one else there to take away from it, his scent washed over her and she felt the butterflies in her stomach come to life again.

Hermione flushed again and looked down.

When she looked up she was shocked to find him a foot away, watching her intently, an amused smile playing around his lips as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Which he probably did.

"Sirius and I couldn't sleep either; we've been keeping each other company. I was just coming down for the chess board," he said motioning to the board and scattered pieces on the floor. Hermione simply nodded dumbly at him. "So is there any particular reason you can't sleep?" he asked as he slid onto one of the loveseats and Hermione followed suit. She shrugged.

"I'm not too sure to be honest. Strange bed, I've got a lot to think about, and it's hard having to make new friends at eighteen. I suppose I've just been under a lot of stress lately." she laughed wryly. Remus simply nodded.

"So you're here for the whole year then?" Hermione nodded. "Well I wouldn't worry about making friends, you're a Gryffindor seventh year, even if we didn't already like you," Hermione smiled shyly, "we'd force you into our little group out of principle." Hermione laughed quietly as she watched him out the corner of her eye. He seemed completely at ease with her.

"So what's been robbing you of your sleep then?" Remus’ skin seemed to glow a deep red in the fire-light.

"In all honesty?" he asked, "It was you." Hermione felt her eyebrows rising.

"Me?" she asked, her heart thumping against her rib-cage.

"Well, you've been quite a mystery to us all," he said. "It's like you dropped out of the sky; we don't know a single thing about you, and yet all five of us feel compelled to trust you. We’ve all agreed that there’s something oddly familiar about you. We have a lot of questions." Hermione smiled brightly.

"Well ask away, and I'll answer what I can." Granted that she had an answer for him.

Remus looked shocked for a moment, as if he hadn't expected this opportunity to be presented to him. He nodded slowly and turned his head to look into the fire. Hermione simply sat and watched him expectantly, watching the shadows dance across his face. He looked lovely in the dim light …

She pulled her eyes away from him and looked out towards the fire, blushing furiously. This seemed to be what Remus was waiting for, because it was then he decided to speak, his voice low and hoarse.

"How long have you been a Werewolf?"

 


	4. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I've been having a super bad few months. My mother had a heart attach the day before new years eve and I ended up in hospital too. My landlord decided that they want to sell the flat I'm renting and told me that the day after I got back from holiday last year. I've had a lot on my mind, but I finally got around to editing chapter 4. 
> 
> This one has had a MASSIVE re-haul in order to make it flow, and I still feel a bit like the romance is going a bit too fast. However, it is the best I have been able to do with what I wrote all those years ago.
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy it. I'll try and have Chapter 5 edited soon.

** Chapter 4 – Revelations. **

Hermione stared out into the fire. She liked fire, it was warm and beautiful; reds, oranges, yellows and blues. It was captivating, and it was just about the only thing in this world that she wasn't afraid of. But most of all, it was ruthless in what it took, and that was something she could relate to. Hermione was ruthless, and it was something she had always known about herself; the ability to be completely merciless and feel no guilt in her actions whatsoever. She was ruthless in taking what she wanted; she was ruthless in her beliefs and defending them, she was ruthless in her studies. She was ruthless in loving and caring for those lucky enough to find a place in her heart.

So why Hermione now felt so weak and tired, and wanted nothing more than to give up, was beyond her. She wanted nothing more than to curl into the fire and let its ruthlessness take her and cleanse her of her pain.

_How long have you been a Werewolf?_

The pain in Remus’ voice was the pain of someone who lived the curse. It was the pain of someone who could understand; someone who  _knew_. She had thought she was going to be all right, he had told her she would. She had believed him. But now she knew, the pain, the pity, the despair. Now she  _knew_.

She closed her eyes and settled her senses. Calm. The crackle of fire popped loudly to her sensitive ears, and the heat of the fire washed over her and it was soothing and comforting. There was another heat – his heat, it was smooth and masculine and she felt her skin tingle and she drew on it. His breathing was soft and even and as she listened she could feel her nerves beginning to unravel, the tension in her body was easing and she began to breathe in rhythm with him. She breathed in deeply, seeking his scent and the comfort it would off her.

Hermione turned her head slightly to look at him out of the corner of her eye and nearly jumped

He was watching her.

His gaze was intense, as if he was trying to look through her, right through her kin, through her skull and into her thoughts. Like he was seeking some answer to the great mysteries of the world.

An answer –

She hadn't answered his question yet.

_How long have you been a Werewolf?_

She looked directly into his eyes, swirling pools of liquid gold and so intense it made her shiver.

Why was she suddenly so attracted to him? Gods, she didn't need this. She took a deep breath.

"My second transformation was the night before James found me in the entrance hall." Lupin flinched. "No one was there that morning to take me back up to the castle. Suppose I was lucky James was around to find me." She dropped her eyes to the pink scar on his neck and felt herself shiver again. It was the same as hers. Same place, same length, same width. It had, after all, been made by the same person. Remus remained silent, watching her.

"How did you know?" she asked raising her eyes to his again. His expression did not changed as he regarded her levelly, and Hermione had a fleeting idea that he wasn’t going to answer her, but then he smiled slow and soft and Hermione was once again reminded again that he was very much male. She felt her skin heating up again, but if Remus noticed he didn't let up.

"I suppose it takes one to know one." He smiled humourlessly, his brow contorted in a frown, "Do you know who -?" Hermione nodded and he dropped his eyes to the hand she held awkwardly in her lap and to the scar that ran along the palm of her hand. His eyes narrowed and his face seemed to harden as if some sudden rage had welled inside him.

"It was Fenrir Greyback wasn't it?" His voice, hoarse as it was, had taken on a sharp edge.

"Yes, how did you -?" Hermione watched as Lupin raised his hand and held it so his palm faced her. A long pink scar ran along his palm, almost identical to the one on her own hand.

"He likes to mark his victims so he knows who they are, so he can recognize his pack." Remus’ face had softened as he spoke to her, though his eyes remained hard. Hermione's face twisted in confusion.

"Pack?" Remus shrugged and opened his mouth as if to speak, only to snap it shut quickly, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in deeply. Hermione watched him frown as he turned towards the stairs which led up to the dorms. There was someone coming.

Hermione's nose twitched as the scent of Sirius began to filter in to her senses. It was musky and spicy and warm, and made her think of Christmas and winter and mulled wine.

Suddenly he was at the foot of the stairs, eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight of her and Remus on the sofa. A sly grin spread across his face.

"Sorry, I came down to check you hadn’t fallen into the fire place, didn't realize you had company, I'll just head on up." With a jaunty wink, Sirius turned as if to leave up the stairs, but suddenly Hermione was on her feet and moving towards him, ignoring Remus’ startled expression at her sudden movement.

"No, no, don't worry, I was just about to head up to bed, it's late." Hermione gave him a strained smile and practically ran past him.

The last thing she needed right now was anyone thinking there was something going on between her and Remus.

Hermione was up the stairs about to turn into the staircase leading up to the girls dormitories when an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. She knew it was Remus before she even turned to look at him.  _I'd recognize his smell anywhere_. His arm dropped from around his waist as he spun her to face him, and Hermione was surprised to feel a disappointed whine rising up the back of her throat.

"Do the others know?" He asked his eyes strangely intense. He was breathing heavily, and Hermione suppressed a sigh as his body heat washed over her, searing her as he stood pressed up against her.  He expression was strained, and the hand around her upper-arm held on tightly, almost painfully. Hermione was finding it hard to speak.

"The others …?" Remus’ grip tightened as she spoke, her voice breathless, "Know about what?" he licked his lips and Hermione found her eyes drawn to them. Pink and full and they looked so soft. Small scars flecked over his lips, some extending down his chin. Hermione was overcome with the sudden urge to press her lips to his, see if they were as soft as they looked, see if he tasted as good as he smelt, to feel the smooth rise of the scars on his bottom lip.

"Do the others know that you're a …?" he trailed off as he looked anxiously over his shoulder, down towards the common room. Hermione sucked in a deep breath as he turned back to look at her. She could taste him on the air between them.

"Err … Peter and Lily." She said quietly. He nodded solemnly.

"I thought as much." He released his grip on her arm and took a step back. Hermione was saddened as his heat moved with him and she was left feeling unnaturally cold. "Do you plan on telling James and Sirius?" His voice was hopeful, pleading almost.

"I … uh … I don’t know , " Hermione stuttered as hope began to blossom in her chest. If Remus helped her with this then there was no way it could wrong. James and Sirius would have to trust her. "What would they do? If I told them, I mean."

"Nothing," Remus said quickly, "they wouldn't do a thing, other than support you." Hermione tried to look sceptical, Peter's words ringing in her ears

_You'll have to let them think they figured it out themselves._

"I don’t know, I don't even know them." Not exactly a lie. "The only reason I've trusted you Peter and Lily is because I don’t actually have any other choice. You all figured it out for yourself." Remus simply nodded.

"But you do trust us, don't you?" Hermione wasn't given a chance to reply. "Look, Peter and Lily are great, I love them, I really do, I would die for them if need called; they are two of the greatest people I have ever met. But the only reason I've retained my sanity, the only reason I've ever kept any semblance of who I am these past five years is because of James and Sirius." Remus paused to catch his breath, drawing up his shoulders as he breathed in.

"I just - you're just a pup. Two transformations. You're still getting used to your new senses and reflexes, you're tempers going to be bad - really bad, and there's more," he trailed off uncomfortably, averting his eyes from hers. "I just think - well no, I _know_ you're going to need friends, people who care. And I can promise you, you'll find that in them." It was endearing how much he loved his friends. It was heart breaking too, to know that he ended up losing them all. Hermione pretended to think, her brow furrowed, chewing on her lip exaggeratedly, before giving a slight nod. Remus’ smile was brilliant, and it was infectious because Hermione suddenly found herself smiling back at him.

"Ok, good. I promise you won't regret it. I'll talk to you tomorrow about it, okay? I should get to bed, it's late." Hermione nodded again, and might have muttered a "thank you" but she wasn't too sure. She turned and placed her foot on the bottom stair intending to make her way up, when suddenly she was falling backwards, and turning at the same time. For a fleeting moment she imagined herself sprawled out on the stone floor in front of Remus and then she found herself engulfed by a warm body.

Remus was hugging her.

Remus Lupin was hugging her. Very tightly.

Suddenly her heart was pounding and her mouth and throat were dry. His hand was in her hair, gripping the back of her head, the front of which was currently buried in the crook of his neck. Her body was held flush against his by his other arm, which was pressed into the small of her back. His body was warm against hers, and she was suddenly drowning in his scent. It was surreal and strange that this boy whom she barely knew and who barely knew her had suddenly decided that she was his to look after.

"… Don't worry; we're going to take care of you. Don't worry, everything's going to be alright," he mumbled into her hair, and Hermione nodded dumbly. She allowed him to hold her for a few moments longer, basking in the warmth and comfort he offered her. And then he was pulling away, and Hermione almost whimpered at the loss of contact. She watched him jog down the stairs and into the common room and stood listening to the low rumble of voices as him and Sirius spoke, too low for her to make out what they were saying. With another deep  breath she turned and trotted back up the stairs, her bare feet slapping loudly against the stone steps.

She eased herself back into her dorm, pleased to see Lily was still snoring softly and now also drooling slightly. Hermione tip-toed her way to her bed and slid in quietly, doing her best to ease the creak of mattress springs, and lay her head on her pillow with a sigh. By the end of the week all five of them would know. Gods, she was nervous, scared and excited all at the same time. What would they do? How would they react when they finally found out? Not badly, she knew they wouldn't react badly, they wouldn't hold it against her. But how would they react to  _her_? Would they be awkward? Merlin, she hoped not.

Hermione pulled in a sharp breath and rolled onto her side, staring sightlessly at Lily. It had been rather nice when Remus had hugged her.  _Soft and warm and he smelt so nice._ Hermione blushed as she thought it, trying hard not to smile, but she couldn't help it, and it had been a very nice hug indeed.

_Though you might be biased, seeing as you fancy him._

Hermione groaned as she rolled back onto her back. How utterly inappropriate.  _Why do I have to fancy him? And why now of all times? Why here of all places_? She had enough problems cluttering her mind, without having to think about boys as well. For starters, she had to figure out why she was here, especially if Dumbledore wasn't going to tell her. She also had her Lycanthropy to deal with. Subconsciously her fingers moved to the scar that ran along the palm of her hand, and she traced its path. A single word flashed through her mind:

 _Packs_?

What had Remus meant by that? Obviously she knew what a pack was. She had learned about animals in packs in Care of Magical Creatures, but she had never heard of Werewolves in packs. Not even in her third year when she had been reading up on Werewolves for that essay Snape had set.

 _I wonder what he meant_.

Well, there was only one thing for it. She would have to go to the library the next chance she got.

* * *

 

Hermione stared despondently at the multitude of books spread out before her. Not a single mention of packs except to refer her to books the Library didn't stock. This was not what she had been expecting when she had rushed from dinner to settle herself in the library for the night, under the excuse that she wanted to catch up on what she had missed. With a soft growl she pulled a red large tome towards and flipped it open.

_A werewolf is a person who shapeshifts into a lupine magical creature, either intentionally by using magic, or unintentionally after having been placed under a curse or, most commonly, after having been infected with the Lycanthropy virus._

_The medieval chronicler Gervase of Tilbury was the first to associate the transformation with the appearance of the full moon. Most modern references agree that a werewolf can be killed if silver makes it into their blood flow, and Werewolves are sometimes held to become vampires after death. Historical articles describe a wide variety of methods for becoming a werewolf, only two of which have proven to be true; self-infliction through Dark Magic and to be bitten by a being already inflicted by the curse whilst in the Lycanthropic state …_

Hermione groaned as she flipped the page. She already knew all this; she needed to know about packs. She quickly scanned through the references and recommended reading on the following page with a disheartened sigh. There was nothing, nothing at all.

Hold on -

_For information on Relationships within Werewolf Packs refer to 'Wicked with Werewolves' by Sandra E._

Bingo!

Hermione jumped up from her seat and quickly made her way over to the relevant section. She had seen that book; it was the only book she hadn't picked up seeing as she had no desire whatsoever to know about the mating habits of Werewolves. However, it would appear it was the only book in Hogwarts' Library with any information on Werewolf packs despite the fact that it was, in all honesty, a bit of a naughty book. This was bound to be interesting.  _Wicked with Werewolves_  had a very well known reputation, so much so in fact, that in her own time it had been moved on to the restricted section.

Hermione skidded to a halt in front of the book and smiled down at it as if it were the answer to all of life's problems.  _Which, at the moment, is partially true_? She bent down and moved to grab the book with a deep breath and a big sigh of relief.

In hindsight, she really wished she hadn't taken that deep breath.

There was something off.

Something was not right

 Something did not  _smell_  right.

In fact, she knew exactly what the smell was; it was the smell of Sirius, but now it was laced with something musky - laced with the scent of sex. Hermione's mind came to a screeching halt.

There were sounds now; soft moans and mewing, most of which were distinctly female. Hermione's mind roared back to life. She grabbed the book off the shelf and moved further down the aisle, closer and closer to the soft moans of Sirius and his companion. She stopped at a gap in the shelves and suddenly found herself afforded a perfect view of Sirius and the blonde attached to his lips.

He had the girl balanced on a stone ledge that protruded from the wall, and he had himself positioned firmly between her legs. It was dark, and the lamp above them seemed to have been broken at some point or another. It was at times like this that Hermione truly appreciated her heightened senses which allowed her to see so much better in the dark. To her eyes, it appeared Sirius was attempting to smother the girls' body with his own. The scent of sex was heady in the air. Heat rushed through Hermione as she realized that both Sirius and the anonymous blonde girl were aroused.

The scent grew stronger as he continued to rub up against her, and she rubbed back. The hem of her indecently short skirt was pushed up around her hips, and Sirius' long fingers massaged the tops of her well sculpted thighs, their swollen lips still locked in a fierce battle, tongues darting back and forth into each other’s mouths. Heat and shame washed over Hermione as she watched the scene unfolding before her, but she was unable to look away.

Their rubbing grew more frantic, their moans and whimpers grew louder, and Hermione's body grew hotter. Hermione watched in fascination as Sirius' hand moved from the girl's thigh and up to her breast where he began to massage it through her thin white oxford. Suddenly the girl wretched her mouth away from his, and threw her head back with a loud moan as she arched her hips up into Sirius'.

There was a new smell assaulting her senses now, too sweet and sickly and Hermione grimaced as her stomach rolled. The smell most definitely did not appeal to her. It was too feminine and too fake. It wasn't spicy like Sirius, or sweet like James, nor was it sharp like Remus’. Suddenly it was being drowned out by Sirius again as he stiffened against the girl and grunted into her neck as he continued to rub against her frantically. They slumped into each other breathing hard and kissing any area of skin their lips could reach.

_Oh God, I can't believe I just watched that._

Hermione jumped as the couple began to stir, Sirius stepping back and casting a quick cleaning charm on them which did nothing to hide the scent of sex which hung in the air. Hermione gripped the book in her hand hard and sprinted back to her desk with an unbelievable speed. Thank Merlin for Lycanthropic reflexes. She slid into her seat and set the book down with a thump. She needed to get her heart and breathing under control before the couple emerged, she couldn't let them know she had seen them.

She pulled her parchment, quill and inkwell towards her and blindly flipped open her book. That was a mistake. She flushed as she looked down at a page which looked like it had come straight out of the  _Karma Sutra_. Hermione blushed a brilliant shade of red. She willed herself to focus; she had known what kind of book this was. She needed to find the contents page. So she did; she flipped to the front of her book and searched for the corresponding chapter.

 _Chapter_   _38: Relationships within Packs: A comprehensive Study of Werewolf Packs and their Hierarchy. Page 340._

Ok, good. She could do this. Her heart had slowed, as had her breathing, but her face was still tinged a rather brilliant shade of pink. Page three hundred and forty, Hermione was pleased to see, had no dirty pictures, but simply moving photographs of normal Wolf Packs, and a rather large group of people, under which was the title:  _Werewolf Pack under Alpha Male Conall Phelan_. There wasn't much information on Werewolf Packs, but it was more than enough for Hermione. She began scribbling down her notes, all thoughts of Sirius and a blonde headed nymph gone from her mind.

_Most Werewolves travel and hunt in a group and perform almost all other activities in the company of fellow Werewolves. The pack, the basic unit of Werewolf social life, is usually a family group. It is made up of People related to each other by blood (Children) or by Sire (the Werewolf who turned them). The alpha male or female is the oldest member of the pack and the one with the most experience in hunting, defending territory, and other important activities or otherwise they may be Sire to all Werewolves in the pack, and/or the strongest._

_Most Werewolves will feel compelled to obey their Alpha Wolf in all situations, though not all will act upon it. To resist this innate obedience in the presence of the Alpha Wolf is to challenge his position as head of the Pack, and so ensues what is commonly known as a Dominance Battle_.

Hermione skimmed quickly over the description of various forms of Dominance Battles, taking notes where she thought applicable. She continued to read, pausing every now and again to take notes as the time wore on. Some ten pages into the chapter she found a paragraph which caused her heart to skip.

_Some Werewolves feel compelled to mark those they sire, so identification of their Pack in Human form is possible. One such known Werewolf is Fenrir Greyback who will mark his pack with a single scar along their right palm and, in all possible instances, will bite his victim on the just above the collar bone._

Hermione stared transfixed at the paragraph in front of her. She had never felt so affected by a book as she did in that moment.

Hermione's nose twitched.

The scent of Sirius was filling the air. She looked up from her book to see Sirius emerging from an aisle not too far from her table, a blonde Slytherin girl marching past him and out the Library without so much as a backward look. Hermione thought Sirius hadn't seen her as she watched him watch the girl leave with a smirk on his face until he turned and looked directly at her with a rather charming smile. Butterflies surged to life in her stomach.

He is entirely too good looking for his own good _._

He moved towards her gracefully the smile never leaving his face as he slid into the chair opposite her. He seemed genuinely happy to see her.

"Hermione, how are you?" he sounded very pleased with himself.

"Not as good as you are it would appear?" Hermione replied, beginning to pack up her things. "I never saw you at dinner."

"No," Sirius said picking up the book nearest to him, "I wasn't very hungry, I had someone to me-" Sirius cut himself off as he stared at the cover of the book in his hand. " _A History of Werewolves_? What would you need with this?" Sirius asked. He looked up at her and frowned, the suspicion evident in the crease of his brow. Hermione's heart thumped in her chest as she tried to look as innocent as possible.

"Just some light reading," She told him. Sirius' brow creased even further as she stood. "I'm going to head back up to the tower, you coming?" Sirius simply shook his head. Hermione nodded at him nervously, hesitating before she picked up  _Wicked with Werewolves_. "Ok, well I'll see you later then." She said quietly. Sirius never replied.

Hermione quickly checked out the book and made her way out of the library with a heavy feeling of foreboding.

She had a very funny feeling things were about to turn sour with Sirius.

 

* * *

 

Hermione squirmed uncomfortably as she followed Lily into the History of Magic class room and found the only available seat, to her consternation, was beside Remus. How was she meant to concentrate in class sitting next to him? She quickly shuffled over and avoided Sirius' eyes as he glared at her from his seat on the other side of Remus. She gave Remus a strained smile and set about pulling out parchment and quills.

"I wouldn't bother," a voice murmured softly in her ear. "Old Binns never notices whose taking notes or not." Hermione's eyebrows drew together in disapproval.

"Well that shouldn't stop you from  _wanting_  to learn," Hermione snapped, and Remus and Sirius leaned away from her in surprise. "And don't think you can copy my notes at the end of the class, either," She added, though mostly out of habit. Remus and Sirius shared a weary look.

The class, it turned out, was one she had covered several weeks ago in her own time, and so she found herself spending her time being entertained watching the boys charming Lily's quill to spell out dirty words whenever she attempted to write anything. She had been surprised to find Binns was actually alive, and a lot more attentive to the class than what she was used to. The boys seemed to take delight in teasing him, to which he frowned and reprimanded them and so only spurred them on in their misbehaving. But even Hermione could see he found them entertaining.

"So, where's this Uric then?" Sirius asked as he reclined in his chair.

Binns sighed long-sufferingly.

"'Cause I want to see these Odd Balls of his!" Sirius exclaimed cackling in glee as the boys of the class erupted into laughter and the girls were left, much like Professor Binns, with their lips pressed together in exasperation.

"That's quite enough, Mr. Black. Now, Uric the Oddball-" Binns hadn't gotten much farther after that.

Half an hour later the six Gryffindor's had left the classroom in peals of laughter as the chalk Sirius had charmed continued to write 'Uric has Oddballs' all over the blackboard, much to Binns' consternation. Hermione's body felt relaxed and fluid as the last of her giggles died off and she made her way into Potions, where an unchanged Horace Slughorn stood at the front of the class. He had watched her enter the classroom, apparently sizing her up for talent.

She frowned slightly as she found herself once again seated next to Remus and she felt a rush of guilt at the hurt look that flashed across his face when she frowned. She didn't have any idea why, but she couldn't help the awkward feeling that welled up whenever she found herself faced with him.

 _Liar_ , she thought as she sat down next to him with a tentative smile,  _you know exactly why._

Hermione barely stifled the groan that welled up in her throat as her subconscious once again reminded her of her completely inappropriate crush. The thought that it wasn't happening flashed briefly through her mind and her subconscious laughed at her feeble attempt at denial. This was getting ridiculous; she had to do something about it soon. It was beginning to affect her schooling.

"Miss Granger?" Hermione's head whipped towards the large man at the front of the class.

"Yes Sir?" She asked. She had _not_  dazed off in class.

"I wonder if you would be averse to a quick verbal quiz so I am to be aware of what level you will be working at?" his moustache twitched slightly.

"Not at all, Sir." Slughorn smiled, displaying a row of yellowing teeth.

"Wonderful, now, let’s see? Ah yes: name one potion in which powdered root of Asphodel is used?" Hermione allowed herself a brief, satisfied smile.

"The Draught of the Living Death; an extremely powerful sleeping potion, and the plant itself is traditionally associated with the afterlife and the underworld." Slughorn nodded approvingly.

"Give me three characteristics of the Felix Felicis potion." Again, a smile tugged at the corners of Hermione’s mouth.

"Molten Gold in colour, the potion takes six months to brew and results can be disastrous if brewed wrong. The potion imbues the drinker with a sense of increased luck allowing planned endeavours to run smoothly. However, if taken in excess the potion causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence, and it is highly toxic in large quantities."

"Excellent," he said excitedly. "What do you know of the Polyjuice Potion?"

"Ingredients Include: Lacewing Flies stewed for twenty one days, Leeches, Powdered Bicorn Horn, Knotgrass, Fluxweed picked at the full moon, shredded Boomslang Skin, and a bit of who one wants to turn into, traditionally a lock of hair. The potion takes a cycle of twenty one days to brew and allows the drinker to transform into whomever they choose, as long as they are able to procure a piece of that person. It isn't supposed to be used for transforming humans into animals; if misused for that purpose, it results in an incomplete transformation requiring skilled medical treatment to undo. Polyjuice Potion can be used for cross-gender transformations." An awed murmur ran through the class as she finished talking.

"Wonderful, wonderful" he cried clapping his hands. "Can you name the properties of the Aconite plant?" By this point Hermione’s brain was working on auto-pilot and before she could even think about the consequences, she was spewing information again.

"Aconite, otherwise known as Monkshood, Wolfsbane and Dumbledore's Delight, is a poisonous plant which can be found in moist wooded areas, and is only known to have a use in the Wolfsbane potion which, while this potion doesn't cure lycanthropy, it does prevent the extremely dangerous dementia which would otherwise accompany the transformation from human into werewolf."

 Hermione knew she had making a mistake even before the words had left her mouth, but her mouth appeared to have a mind of its own and in her need to impress with her brains had resulted in her spewing forth the most common characteristics of Wolfsbane in her own time.

There was a sharp intake of breath to her right and Hermione tried her absolute hardest not to look round at him but she couldn’t help it. The hope which lit up his face was like a punch to the gut and Hermione flinched and turned away again. Behind her, someone made an angry noise. Slughorn's mouth seemed to have gone slack and Hermione shifted in her seat slightly under the intense gaze of the class. Slughorn seemed to snap out of his trance quickly and gave her an appraising look.

"I wasn't aware there was such a thing as the Wolfsbane Potion, Miss Granger," the plump man said sharply. Hermione nodded quickly and shifted uncomfortably. Think, Hermione, _think!_

"I believe it’s – ah - still in development, sir. But there appears to have been quite a bit of success." Hermione felt as if she had stepped outside of her body and was looking down on herself in a mixture of horror and amusement as her mouth refused to close. "It's being developed by Damocles Belby, an old favourite of yours I'm told."

“Is that so? Well, that certainly is exciting stuff – I’ll have to owl Damocles and see how that endeavour is working out for him.” Slughorn’s voice was too smooth, too silky for that to have been anything other than a threat.

The class fell into a strained silence as Hermione stared resolutely at the front of the class. She really shouldn't have done that.  _Really, really shouldn't have done that. I should have kept my mouth shut, but no, me and my big mouth and my need to be the best. Merlin, Hermione!_

Hermione spent the rest of the lesson trying her hardest to ignore the other five Gryffindor's who appeared to be inconspicuously trying to get her attention, all of them except for Remus who spent the lesson staring ahead in stony silence. The tension was rolling off him and Hermione knew that for some reason he was angry at her. And through all of this the only thing Hermione could think about was the piece of parchment which should still have been in her robes which Snape had given her the night of her first transformation; a piece of parchment that could offer Remus some degree of peace and solace on the nights of the full moon.

The end of the lesson saw Hermione rushing from the room and dashing through the castle in a desperate attempt to get to Dumbledore's office. She needed to tell him about the potion, needed to get to her old robes where the ingredient list and directions for brewing were. Hermione didn’t make it very far before a strong hand grabbed the back of her robes and threw her into the wall with a sickening crack. The hand which had grabbed her moved to close around her throat and Hermione suddenly found herself face to face with a livid looking Sirius black, her feet dangling sever inches above the ground.

Her hands flew to her neck as she clawed helplessly at the hand which appeared to be attempting to crush her windpipe and she felt herself growing dizzy at the lack of oxygen making its way into her body. Sirius' face was contorted with rage as he stared her down, and Hermione suddenly found herself petrified with fear. She understood now why it was everyone had believed him capable of murder.

"How the fuck do you know about Remus?" His voice was a low growl and Hermione felt herself beginning to tremble. She had faced Voldemort and Death-Eaters so why was she so scared of Sirius Black? "Bet you think you were right smart, figuring it out and all, planning to let everyone know, were you?" he spat at her "Well you're not, I'd kill you sooner than let you hurt any of them." Hermione made a feeble attempt to struggle and desperately tried to drag some air into her lungs as her eyes swam with tears and light-headedness. God, he was going to kill her.

"Sirius _no_!" The sound was far off, and muffled, but she would have recognized that voice anywhere. Hermione had never been so happy to hear Remus’ voice in her entire life. She twisted her head to the side slightly and she saw four blurry figures. Merlin, she really needed to breathe. "Sirius let her go." She could tell Remus was angry by the sound of his voice; a low dangerous rumble which was more of a growl than anything else.

Suddenly Hermione found she had collapsed to the floor hacking and coughing, her vision swimming in and out of focus as air rushed into her depraved lungs. Her neck was burning and aching and she vaguely thought that there would be bruises there tomorrow. Her right shoulder seemed to throb, and the pain was making her feel sick to her stomach. Four concerned faces swam into view as everyone but Sirius crowded in on her to make sure she was ok.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" James was on his feet and advancing towards Sirius who stared him down with an angry glare.

"I was trying to protect our friend! She knows about Moony - she was planning on telling everyone." James' face registered shock.

"She ..?" Sirius nodded.

"She knows and she was going to tell everyone." The oldest Black child pointed an accusatory finger at the shaking girl being coddled by Lily and Peter.

"Wasn't," She protested as best she could around her damaged windpipes. This was apparently not what he wanted to hear as Sirius' face contorted with rage and he advanced on Hermione again.

" _Fucking liar_!" he spat. A strong arm moved out to hold Sirius in place effectively blocking his path and Sirius seemed shocked to find himself face to face with a very angry looking Remus Lupin. "She was reading books in the Library - about Lycanthropy," Sirius all but shouted. Remus simply shook his head.

"I was researching Werewolf packs," Hermione informed him, her voice hoarse. Sirius made a disbelieving noise.

"Oh yea and why's that?" he asked, his bitter mocking laugh sounded harsh to her sensitive ears and she couldn't stop the grimace that flashed over her face.

"I mentioned them to her," Lupin told Sirius softly. " The other night -you interrupted us before I got the chance to explain anything to her." Sirius looked up at him strangely.

"And why would you be talking to her about Werewolf packs?"

Remus looked back to Hermione and the question was in his eyes. Hermione realised that the time had come for James and Sirius to know. She was almost glad that it wasn’t her who would be telling them after all. She nodded once to him.

"Because she's in _my_ pack," Remus said turning back to face Sirius, an heir of possessiveness to his tone.

A loud coughing noise behind Sirius showed James had apparently started to choke on his own spit and for a moment Hermione briefly wondered if the possibility Harry was about to die in a blazing glory of spittle as James spluttered and coughed, fighting to get air into his lungs. Sirius continued to look between Remus and Hermione in confusion before offering forth a very eloquent "Eh?"

Remus sighed and shook his head, looking intently into the eyes of his friend.

"Sirius, Hermione is a Werewolf.”

 


	5. Revelations Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the last of the edited chapters. Again, I did the best with what I had to work with. Here on in, I promise the quality will be of a much higher standard. I'll try and get Chapter 6 written and posted asap.

** Chapter 5 – Revelations Part II **

Time stood still.

Or so Hermione thought as her eyes moved from one stationary figure to the next in fear. James' face had gone slack, a deathly pale pallor painting his face white under the red tint of his cheeks. Lily and Peter, who knelt on either side of her holding her by the arms, had stopped breathing completely, and Remus stood before her, his back turned, his eyes never leaving Sirius who, for the most part, looked like he didn't believe a word Remus was saying.

A tightening in her chest alerted Hermione to the fact that she, too, was holding her breath and she expelled it in a loud _whoosh_. The sound seemed to break the trance that had fallen upon the group and everyone but Remus turned to look at her. Under the intense gaze of four people she was suddenly aware of the fact that she was still kneeling on the floor so Hermione scrambled to her feet, her knees screaming in protest as she did so. From her new position she could see the glare Remus was directing at Sirius.

She knew Remus was angry, that much was obvious by simply looking at him, but it was the anger she could  _feel_  that shook her. It was a hard, hot rage that seemed to ooze out and roll off him in waves; it seemed to hang in the air and suffocate her. It was rage that made her tremble and wish suddenly for the quiet, calm presence of the man he would one day become. This angry and temperamental boy was terrifying and confusing. She looked away and her eyes met the chilling gray of Sirius’.

She could feel her face burning, her neck throbbing, and an uncomfortable ache in her throat as she tried to swallow. Her eyes stayed locked on Sirius' and anger bubbled around the pit of her stomach as she held his wide-eyed gaze. He had hurt her; he had actually physically assaulted her.

Heat suffused her body as the anger continued to grow in her, and she couldn't decide what angered her more; the fact she left herself defenceless when she had more than the means to protect herself, or that Sirius had actually dared to attack her? Her eyes never moved from his, and she watched him unblinking. His face had taken on a deathly pallor and his mouth worked soundlessly as he held her gaze.

Hermione frowned and fought very hard to be angry at him; she  _wanted_  to be angry at him. He had attacked her, hurt her. But she didn’t think she really was. She was angry with the whole situation. Her frown deepened and she dropped her eyes to the floor and away.

A warm hand on her elbow, a searing heat which spread up her arm and a familiar scent alerted Hermione to the fact that Remus had moved and was now standing by her side. His hand gripped her chin softly and tilted it back, exposing her neck to him. His breath was smooth and warm on her skin as he inspected her neck, and she couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine when his thumb brushed down the side of her neck, applying gentle pressure to the pulse point at the base of her neck. She bit the inside of her cheek as her body began to heat again when his warm moist breath washed over her as he spoke.

"Does it hurt?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, and hoarse with restrained anger.

She cleared her throat and shook her head out of his hand. "No, I'm ok," She rasped and grimaced at the sound of her voice. He would know she was lying through her teeth. If he did, however, he let it pass and simply nodded, but refused to move away from his position close to her side

"I- Hermione, I-" Sirius' voice broke and his mouth continued to move soundlessly as he tried desperately to find words which would not come to him, and he took a single step towards her. A firm hand pulled her back by her arm and she found herself partially shielded by Remus as he moved to stand in front of her with his arms folded across his chest in what she recognised as a very defensive stance. What was he doing? Was he trying to protect her?

"I think it would be best," Remus’ voice was hard, and he appeared to be addressing Sirius alone, "if we took Hermione back to the tower now." Hermione shivered at the change in his tone when he said her name: proprietary and aggressive, like Sirius had no right to even breathe the same air as her. A thrill ran through her body at the possessive and overprotective way he seemed to be shielding her from everyone else, like no one but him was allowed to touch her.

Sirius retreated backwards and nodded quickly. He stared wide-eyed at Remus as James, Lily and Peter began to shuffle awkwardly, ready to head back to Gryffindor tower and away from the angry, cloying atmosphere of the corridor. Remus, however, stayed resolutely still, never taking his eyes off of Sirius.

"If she bruises, you bruise." His voice was like poison as he addressed Sirius who visibly flinched at the threat but did nothing more than nod in response.

"No, no tower!" she rasped out as she scrambled for her bag "I have to see Dumbledore." Then she was running again, her feet moving at an inhuman speed as she took off down the corridor, sprinting up stairs and through the twisting hall ways of the castle towards Dumbledore's office. Voices called out for her and there was a soft tap of feet she realised was Remus following her. Within minutes she was skidding to a halt in front of the familiar stone gargoyle closely followed by Remus who looked nothing like the panting mess she did.

"Hermione, can't this wait?" She shook her head, sucking in gasping breaths and turned back to the statue.

"Acid Pops."

"Sugar Quills"

Nothing again.

Hermione frowned at it. The sound of heavy footfalls reverberated off the walls around her and she realised that the other four had followed them as well. Anxiety welled in her stomach as she bobbed from foot to foot.  Sweets, it’s always sweets.

"Pepper Imps."

"Pepper Imps?" Hermione turned to Remus who looked endearingly confused. "What are Pepper Imps?"

"Er, little black things? Make you breathe fire?" Remus just continued to stare at her in a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. "They're popular where I come from," She mumbled as she turned back.

"Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans"

Nothing again.

"Fudge Flies." It was Remus who spoke this time to Hermione's surprise, and she smiled gratefully at him as he continued to count of sweets on his fingers."Fizzing Whizbees."

The footsteps down the corridor continued to grow louder, as did the sound of heavy breathing, and soon both sounds were ringing loudly in her ears. She needed to get inside that tower, quickly.

"What are you doing?" Hermione spun to find the other four leaning up against the corridor walls  panting heavily as they looked to Hermione in pure bafflement. Hermione simply huffed impatiently.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Help me figure out the password." Sirius, James and Peter continued to look on incredulously whilst Lily gave a small chuckle before straightening up and moving towards the statue.

"Ice Mice," She called out clearly and with a grinding of stone the Gargoyle sprang to life. Without pausing to think Hermione jumped nimbly onto the moving stairs followed closely by Remus and the other four Gryffindors. No one said a word as they spiralled slowly upwards. The ride seemed to take forever and Hermione shifted restlessly from foot to foot.

With a shuddering jerk the stairs came to a grinding halt and Hermione jumped off completely unfazed followed by Remus whilst the others seemed to wobble about precariously. She strode determinedly toward the large wooden door with a heavy gold plaque proclaiming the office it guarded belonged to Albus Dumbledore. It swung open before she even had a chance to reach it to reveal a white haired old man sat behind a large cherry wood desk, smiling at her cheerily.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione greeted him as she swept into his office and slowed to a stop in front of his desk.

"Yes, Miss Granger, What can I do for you?" His cheerful tone never wavered, but his face had taken on that slight rigid tension she always knew meant he was concerned about something.

"I was wondering if you still had the robes I was found in, Sir." There was a tense, pregnant silence in which Dumbledore seemed to appraise her for a moment before standing and moving towards a large wooden table to his left and ringing a large golden bell that stood atop it. Hermione had no time to wonder what he was doing before a house elf appeared.

Hermione’s lips thinned disapprovingly.

"A house-elf?” she asked waspishly and she heard a sharp intake of breath from behind her.

"Yes, Miss Granger, this is Mitsy. She supervises the laundry rooms.” Hermione’s mouth opened, a lecture on the barbarity of house elf slavery on the tip of her tongue but Dumbledore turned away from her and addressed the small creature in front of him. “Mitsy, I'd like you to fetch the robes I gave you for cleaning last Friday please." The House Elf disappeared and reappeared again a short minute later with a loud  _crack_ , handing over the folded garment to Dumbledore before disappearing again. Dumbledore handled the bundle of cloth wearily for a moment before slowly handing them over. "Here you are, Miss Granger."

Dumbledore appeared apprehensive in handing over the robes, almost as if he were afraid of what she would do with them. Hermione, however, took no notice, her mind set on the crumpled piece of parchment she quickly pulled out of one of the robe’s pockets. It was stiff and slightly crumbling and stuck together in places from having been washed along with the robe but for the most part it appeared to be mostly discernable. Hermione made an undignified noise in the back of her throat that she surely would have been embarrassed about at any other time.

"Hermione? What is it?" Lily had stepped up behind her and was staring down at the paper in confusion. "A Potion?" Hermione nodded numbly as she turned to face Lily and the boys. There was a brief second where she knew she shouldn't say anything, where she knew how much it would make everything so much worse, but her mouth had other ideas.

"The Wolfsbane Potion."

No one moved; no one spoke; no one even appeared to breathe as they stared at Hermione in complete shock.

Remus had gone frighteningly white and seemed to sway for a moment before collapsing back into a chair Hermione knew had not been there a second before. It was a soft looking chintz patterned armchair very typical of the Albus Dumbledore style and when Hermione turned to look at him, sure enough there he stood with his wand in hand. He was also looking back at her.

"If I may be so bold, Miss Granger- What exactly is the Wolfsbane Potion?" Hermione swallowed thickly.

"Wolfsbane prevents the dementia which accompanies the transformation from human into werewolf during the full moon." Her voice was thick and clumsy and broke half way through her answer. Dumbledore merely nodded, almost as if he had been expecting this answer.

"And this is something widely used where you come from?"He asked shrewdly. He was moving towards her now and taking the roll of parchment from her hand. "The directions for brewing it seem to have been washed away, however, the ingredients still appear to be intact."

Hermione cleared her throat nervously.

"My old Potions Master used to brew it every month for someone," her eyes flickered to Remus who was watching her in wide-eyed astonishment. "I was led to believe it's a very long and very taxing potion to brew."

"Would you be willing to attempt brewing it?" Dumbledore inquired as he handed the parchment back to her.

“I- I’m not sure I could, Sir. I mean – well, to figure it out from just the ingredients?”

“Yes, of course. Sufficient study of the materials used should enable you to find the correct process.” Dumbledore smiled benignly at her. “Of course I would not expect you to do it on your own.”

Hermione could do nothing but nod numbly. Of course she would do it. For Remus and for herself – anything to save them from the not knowing. Dumbledore turned to the red-haired Gryffindor at Hermione's side "Well then, Miss Evans, would you be up to the task?"

Lily jumped slightly as she looked to Dumbledore in shock and flushed red as she gaped and stuttered out her reply “Me, Professor?”

“Yes, I think so. Professor Slughorn is quite adamant that you are a potions prodigy.” Lily’s blush deepened.

"I – well, I -Of course, Professor."

Dumbledore's cheery smile returned full force.

"Wonderful! Be sure to make enough for yourself and Mr. Lupin, won't you, Miss Granger? I hardly think it fair to withhold something as important as this from him."

“That goes without saying, Sir.” He was, after all, half of the reason she was even bothering with the potion.

She didn't need him know that, though.

 

* * *

 

The trip back to the tower was made in complete silence, the four boys walking up ahead of Hermione and Lily. No one talked or even acknowledged anyone else, too caught up in their own thoughts. The unusually subdued group had gotten a fair few strange looks as they wondered slowly through the halls of Hogwarts up to Gryffindor tower. Dinner had started by the time they made it back, but no one had felt like eating and so Hermione had begged off exhaustion and proceeded to move towards her room, but not before Sirius could pull her off to one side, apparently to apologise.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, it's just, there's so much we don't know about you. So much has happened so quickly and I don't want my friends hurt." He trailed off as his gaze dropped to the floor and Hermione felt her heart ache with pity for the boy in front of her that she had watched die in the future. She had seen him haunted and tortured by the losses in his life. Falsely accused and imprisoned in a hell on earth for twelve years. She couldn't let that happen to him. Not now.

Hermione took a step closer to him and slipped her arms around his waist, drawing him as close as she could. He smelt of Halloween; Cinnamon and spiced apples and the fresh scent of his soap. She liked his scent; it made Hermione feel safe and made her feel like she was experiencing déjà vu every time she caught a whiff of it. She felt large arms enclose her and he buried his face in the russet curls atop her head. Shame and anger seemed to roll of him in waves as Hermione continued to hold him close to her.

"I have to thank you, Sirius." The boy in her arms snorted disbelievingly, "Maybe not for actually attacking me, but you proved to me that there are still people in this world who care about more than just themselves. I didn't believe people like that still existed until today. So if not for the bruises then thank you for restoring my faith." Sirius' only answer was to tighten his hold on her.

Hermione let her arms drop from around the black haired boy and took a step back, reaching up on tip-toes to place a light kiss on his cheek before stepping away completely. "All is forgiven, Sirius. Don't beat yourself up about it, ok?" Sirius simply nodded his head and smiled gratefully.

When Hermione turned to say goodnight to the other four she hadn't expect to find herself faced with a very angry Remus Lupin, but that's exactly what she got. He was stood away from Peter, James, and Lily by the fire and his eyes burned with pure rage as he glared at Sirius; his face was terrible and Hermione felt a thrill run down her spine.

Sirius seemed to flinch and shrink under Remus’ stare and Hermione knew without a doubt there would be an argument between them that night. A wave of guilt washed over her as the knowledge that she was the catalyst in this argument hit her. She momentarily entertained the idea of staying to make sure world war three did not break out before a wave of exhaustion swept over her and she decided she was better off going up to the dorm. Nothing was going to stop the battle that was about to commence. So without a word to anyone else, she turned and made her way up to bed.

And that's where she found herself; curled up on her bed, draped in a pair of shorts from Lily and one of Sirius' old  _Falmouth Falcons_  Quidditch shirts, adding the finishing touches to the second draft of her Potions essay.

Hermione gave a satisfied smile as she set her quill in the inkwell and sat back to survey her work. Hermione liked work, it had a funny way of calming her in a way it never did for anyone else. The Parchment, the ink, the books, the words, they offered her a solace from the stress of life and meshed together into a world where Hermione could lose herself, if only for a short time. But in the end it was always there for her, so easy to find and slip into and no one would think her more than a simple bookworm who overachieved. Her books and her work had been the only things in Hermione's life that had given without asking in return.

But exhaustion hastened to her on swift wings and Hermione resentfully rolled up the parchment with a promise that she would write up her third and final draft the following evening, for now she needed to sleep and forget the day behind her.

She had just settled her Parchment on her trunk at the foot of her bed when the door opened to reveal a very haggard looking Lily Evans. The sound of raised voices floated in through the open doorway and both girls grimaced in pity for Sirius.

“ _So you keep saying, but what you don’t seem to understand is that I really don’t care. If you ever touch her again, I'll fucking kill you. Do you-"_  The door closed and cut of the rest of Remus’ rant.

Hermione's stomach lurched painfully as she listened to Remus threatening Sirius. It was her fault. She was coming between friends and causing arguments. She shouldn't be here; she was changing everything and causing problems that didn’t need to be caused. Hermione desperately wished she could go back to her own time with Harry and Ron and giggling roommates who thought her boring; not here causing arguments between best friends, surrounded by people she knew to be dead in her own time.

She had no right to be here. She didn’t belong here.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione's head whipped to her left to find Lily pulling on a pair of red silk pyjamas, a look of utmost concern on her face. Hermione's stomach lurched painfully again.

"I'm fine, just exhausted is all," She replied in a hoarse voice and she cringed at the pain that seared along her throat when she spoke. Sirius was obviously a lot stronger than he looked. Lily moved around her bed and came to rest beside Hermione. She lifted her fingers to graze softly against the slightly swollen flesh of Hermione's neck.

"It's already starting to bruise," She said softly "I know some cosmetic charms that'll cover up the worst of it, if you'd like?" Hermione merely nodded and looked down at her hands as the muffled sound of raised voices reached her sensitive ears. She felt a lump rise in her throat as guilt washed over her again.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Lily's voice was soft and soothing and the hand that smoothed through her hair made her feel sleepy. Hermione was at least glad to have found Lily here. "Hermione?"

"They're arguing because of me,” she croaked. “It's all my fault. I don't want them to argue because of me, it's not worth it. I'm not worth it," Hermione choked out as tears began streaming down her face.

"Oh Hermione." Lily's arms wrapped around Hermione's shoulders who turned into the warmth the red headed girl offered her. "They argue all the time. Sometimes it's worse than other times, but it's nothing to worry about. They'll be friends again tomorrow. You watch." Hermione didn't believe her but she nodded anyway. Hermione was most definitely glad to have found Lily.

"Now, on a lighter –yet completely related- note, what's going on with you and Remus?" Hermione wiped the tears from her face and turned to look at Lily in confusion. 

"I don't know what you mean?" Hermione sniffled. Lily threw her head back and laughed right out. It was a tinkle of a laugh that shivered its way down Hermione's spine and made her feel warm and happy. Lily was one of those few people in life who felt like home to anyone who knew her. And James was going to be a very lucky man.

"Oh come on Hermione, your obviously attracted to him." Hermione tried as hard as she could to stop the radiant blush that lit her face but Lily just laughed again. "And as far as I'm concerned he's obviously attracted to you." Hermione's protests were cut off by Lily's hand. "Don't even try to deny it. I've known Remus for nearly seven years now, I can read him like a book. There's something that's drawing him to you." Hermione snorted.

"Yeah, it's called Lycanthropy," She muttered.

Lily merely smiled mysteriously and replied with a softly spoken "Maybe. But you never denied being attracted to him."

Lily jumped up off of Hermione's bed and bounded over to her own before Hermione could reply and promptly crawled under the covers.

"What I think we'd all like to know, however, is what's going on with this Wolfsbane thing?" Hermione stilled in the pulling back of her own quilt as she fought desperately for an answer within the swirling mess that was her mind.

What was she supposed to tell them?

Hermione made a show of getting into bed and sorting her bed clothes in an attempt to buy herself more time. Lily simply sat and watched her calmly, expectantly. Hermione sighed in defeat and stopped playing around with her pillows.

"What did you want to know?" she asked carefully. Lily sat up straighter smiling in excitement.

"How did you get your hands on the ingredients and directions? You said it was still in development! And I know for a fact you were lying about who developed it, because Damocles Belby is in the year below us, unless you meant his Grandfather Damocles Belby, who is actually a Lycanthrope, but I doubt it was him seeing as Wolfsbane in its plant form can be lethal to a Lycanthrope. That's why Dumbledore asked me to help you. So, what's going on Hermione?"

Hermione couldn't help the look of complete shock that crossed her face, nor could she help the strangled sound she made in the back of her throat as blind panic took over her body. Her mind had gone completely blank save for the  _Oh Fuck_  that had flittered through it and the urge to flee rocked through Hermione's body in waves.

What the _fuck_ was she going to do?

"Oh God, Lily you wouldn’t believe me if I told you." Hermione's breath was coming in quick gasps now. There was nothing she could tell Lily that would make more sense but the truth, and even that was going to be impossible for them to believe.

"Of course I will.” Lily scoffed, and then frowned at the fear that must have been plain on Hermione’s face. “Hermione, what is it?"

Hermione swallowed thickly as she gazed into the bright face of her red headed companion and prepared herself for the words about to come out of her mouth. This was really it, she was telling one of them.

"Lily, I'm from the future."

 


	6. Two Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER.**
> 
> Okay. So. Wow. My first chapter added to this story since 2006. That's 9 years. 
> 
> I have spent the past, what? 8 Months?? Yeah about 8 months trying to write this chapter and I could not get it to work at all. I nearly gave up so many times. Then, one night, I sat down with a pad of paper and a pen. I was halfway into my second bottle of wine and, determined that I would start this chapter, started to write. I just let my brain do whatever it wanted. My brain wanted to change the tense that the narrative is written in. And then, suddenly, it was working - things were flowing. So I stuck with it.
> 
> So, yeah, WARNING! The narrative tense changes in this chapter which will be pretty jarring coming in from the first 5 chapters. 
> 
> When I can find the time, I'll probably go back and edit the first 5 and try and get them into present tense as well. But I'm not making any promises. So yeah, you've been warned.
> 
> This had been a long time coming. I hope it isn't disappointing and that you all enjoy it!

** Chapter 6 – Two Steps Back. **

 

“Are you joking?” Lily asks after a long, tense silence and Hermione realises that she was an idiot to think that she could just _tell_ Lily that she was from the future. As if that’s something you can just drop on someone that you’ve known for less than a week and expect them to believe you. What exactly had she been thinking?

“Yes,” Hermione says quickly, her voice panicky and breathless.

“Hermione-“

“Yes, it was a joke,” she says again, accompanied by a shrill, slightly manic giggle. Lily frowns and Hermione’s stomach does something uncomfortably. “Obviously not a very funny one.”

Again, Lily frowns, but behind the confusion are concern and a healthy dose of suspicion. Hermione doesn’t blame her. It’s not like she’s been trying very hard to be conspicuous about what she knows. She’s been such an idiot about this whole thing.

“Hermione-“

Hermione deflates.

“Look, it was just a joke,” she tells Lily, and even she can hear the exhaustion in her voice. Lily’s face softens. “Can we just forget it? I’d really like to just go to sleep now?”

“Of course,” Lily says quietly, eyeing Hermione warily and Hermione cannot find it in herself to care about Lily’s obvious distrust, because let’s be honest here, if she were the one in Lily’s position, she wouldn’t trust her either.

“We can talk tomorrow,” Hermione tells her, almost like a peace offering. They’ll talk tomorrow after she’s had time to come up with a suitable reason for why she’s in possession of the directions to a potion which, technically, doesn’t exist yet.

Lily doesn’t respond, simply gives Hermione a tight smile and turns to get ready for bed.

 

###

 

Surprisingly, Hermione’s neck is not bruised the next morning, and she supposes that there is a lot to be said for super Werewolf healing. There are no obvious injuries amongst the boys either, which makes Hermione breathe easier. In fact, there appears to be nothing wrong with them at all, as if they had never argued the night before and Hermione feels the tense knot in her chest loosen.

Hermione spends the day dreading her conversation with Lily. They have arranged to meet in the library after dinner to go over what remains of Hermione’s instructions for the Wolfsbane potion and begin putting together the basic ideas on how to brew it.

To Hermione’s surprise, the boys are sat with Lily when she makes it to the library.

“I wasn’t aware you knew where the library was,” Hermione tells James as she settles into the spare seat left between him and Remus. James smiles roguishly and flicks the shining badge on his chest.

“They don’t give head boy badges to just anyone, you know,” he says. “Besides, I’d never be able to find Remus if I didn’t know where it is.”

Hermione feels Remus turn to look at them, his gaze summoned by the sound of his name. She stiffens at suddenly finding herself under his scrutiny. They’ve barely looked at each other all day, apparently awkward over something that Hermione can’t pinpoint; unwilling to acknowledge anything that had happened the day before. Almost as if they had something to be embarrassed about. Whatever it is, Hermione is uncomfortable to feel his eyes on her for the first time that day.

Instinctively, Hermione turns to face him, because she can’t not. His eyes are warm and whiskey coloured and the small, fond smile he gives her makes her feel suddenly warm all over. She can feel the colour beginning to rise in her cheeks. The twisted knot of anxiety that has sat in her chest all day melts and drips down her body like warm honey to pool hotly low in her stomach. Remus’ nostrils flare fractionally wider and his smile changes to something less friendly; to something more feral. Predatory. Hermione shivers.

“Cold?” James asks, leaning across her to snatch up Remus’ quill. Hermione is saved answering by the brief tug-of-war that occurs over Remus’ quill, and after a moment the heat begins to leave her cheeks by the other heat stays, the one that has settled behind her pelvis. The one Remus can, apparently, smell.

The tussle ends only when Remus’ hand sneaks out, too quick for anyone but Hermione to see, and knocks James’ glasses flying off his face. With a cry, James drops the quill, which flutters to rest on Hermione’s lap, and leaps after his wayward spectacles. Before Hermione has had time to really register much of what has happened, Remus’ fingers are brushing against her grey, woollen skirt as he scoops up his quill. Hermione sucks in a breath as heat explodes across her skin again.

Shea can feel Remus watching her, and just like before, she can’t help but turn to him. There is no smile this time and the look he is giving her makes her want to run and hide.

“Werewolf reflexes, eh?” Sirius says quietly, jokingly, from the other side of the table, but the look he is flicking between Hermione and Remus is completely at odds with his light hearted tone.

“Speaking of Werewolves,” says James turning to Hermione, his glasses once again perched upon his nose, and Remus makes a rumbling noise of displeasure at the back of his throat. James leans quickly away from Hermione. “Or, you know, not.”

Hermione sends an exasperated look towards Remus. “Speaking of Werewolves, what?” Hermione presses James, not unkindly. James flicks a nervous look over her shoulder at Remus.

“Oh, well,” he says a second later having obviously received Remus’ approval. “How long have you been of the lycanthropic persuasion?”

Hermione blinks. “The lycanthropic persua-“

“Merlin, Potter, you are the _worst_ ,” snaps Lily irritably and James turns a slack-jawed, indignant glare on her.

“I most certainly am not,” he declares primly. Lily’s lips twitch but she stifles the burgeoning smile and rolls her eyes instead. Hermione feels a laugh building inside her chest and Peter waggles his eyebrows at her conspiratorially from across the table.  Affection settles inside her and she loves these moments where she feels so completely a part of them.

“If you’ve all stopped acting like children,” Lily says.

“Err,” replies Sirius indignantly.

“Maybe we can get started?” Lily continues, completely ignoring him.

“I still don’t understand what I’m doing here, “says Remus from where he’s lounging back in his chair. “I’m terrible at potions.” James and Sirius hum sympathetically.

“Only in practice,” says Lily dismissively. “You’re just as capable of doing the theory as the rest of us.” Remus doesn’t look entirely convinces but he just shrugs his shoulders and doesn’t respond.

“Now,” says Lily. “I’ve put together a plan of who is going to be researching what.”

Hermione blocks her out there as her wolf suddenly rears up and anger begins to bubble up in her chest because: why has _Lily_ put this plan together? Why has this suddenly become Lily’s project when Hermione is the one who had the potion in the first place? In fact, Dumbledore asked Lily to _help_ Hermione with the potion, not to take it over. Hermione has never been told what to do when it comes to research. She doesn’t need to be told. She is the brightest witch of her age. She is the brightest witch that Hogwarts has seen since McGonagall.

That most certainly makes her smarter than Lily and therefore better suited to be leading this project.

“-we’ll take three ingredients each – of course I’ll take the spare – and put together a complete fact sheet.”

Hermione stands up calmly, reaches across the table and plucks the ingredients list from Lily’s fingers. The table has gone completely quiet and Hermione settles back into her seat ignoring the incredulous looks that everyone is giving her. She pulls a piece of parchment from her bag and quickly scribbles out three lists.

When she finally lifts her eyes it is to find Lily glaring at her. “Problem, Hermione?” she asks icily and James sucks in a hissing breath beside Hermione.

“No,” says Hermione unperturbed and smiling. “I just think I have a better idea of how to go about researching this.” Lily’s face colours and Remus stiffens on Hermione’s other side. Sirius’ face is full of wide eyes fear and Hermione can feel a smirk beginning to form across her lips.

“Oh?” Lily’s voice is tight and angry, obviously unused to being challenged academically, and Hermione can sympathise with that feeling but that doesn’t mean she’s going to sit back and let Lily take her crown. Hermione hums the affirmative and passes her hastily scribbled lists across to Lily. She watches as the other girl stares uncomprehendingly at the parchment in her hands. Hermione smiles triumphantly.

“I’ve separated the ingredients into base, ancillary and volatile. It would be better and far more conductive to our goal if we paired up and tool a list each. We’ll, probably, naturally fall into finding our base layers and pair of the ancillaries with their bases. We’ll be able to compartmentalise reactive volatile ingredients into the correct order and it should give us a pretty good idea of time frame when we can see what, when, and where the ingredients are grown and harvested if we’re working under the assumption that all ingredients must be fresh.”

By now, Lily’s face has gone an alarming shade of red which clashes horribly with her hair, but Sirius has started to grin, like the cat that caught the canary, and a dangerous gleam had entered his eyes. “Yes, that sounds like a _much_ better idea than yours, Lils.” His grin only falters for a second when she turns her murderous glare on him, before snapping back into place.

“Does it?” says Lily, and her voice is deadly quiet. Sirius nods happily. “What do you think?” She turns on James, her eyes like pools of green fire in her face. James whimpers.

“Well –“

“Well?” Lily is practically growling and Hermione is almost gleeful because her idea _is_ better and James isn’t going to say otherwise.

“Well, it does sound like it might-“ He cuts off and swallows hard as Lily’s face darkens even further and then seems to bolster his courage. “It might be an easier and more productive way of going around things.”

Lily stares at him for a long, tense moment and James fidgets nervously as Lily’s face seems to drop from furious to disappointed. Finally, she takes her eyes off him and, skipping Hermione entirely, settles them on Remus. “And you?” she asks softly. She looks almost betrayed. “You prefer Hermione’s idea?”

Remus gives a non-committal shrug, and Hermione has to grip the edge of the table as her wolf seems to surge up inside her, growling and snarling and she can feel her own growl starting to rumble at the back of her throat because Remus is Pack and they’re supposed to stick together. He’s supposed to pick her because she’s pack Lily is not.

She knows the thought is unreasonable, that she can’t just suddenly expect him to offer her his loyalty – her, practically a stranger – over Lily, who’s been his friend for over six years. But she can’t help it; the feeling is instinctual. Her wolf is furious at the perceived betrayal and she shoots him a glare. He’s already watching her from beneath his lashes, his expression unreadable.

“Lily.” It’s Peter who speaks; his voice is soft and slightly chiding. Lily seems to deflate back into her chair and Hermione suddenly realises that there is a lot more to this that being bested by Hermione. This is Lily being territorial. “It’s a good idea. It also means that we can pair up me and Remus with the stronger potioneers, instead of trying to muddle through on our own.”

Remus makes an agreeable sound at this and Hermione’s wolf settles, allowing her to breathe easier. The tension seems to leech from her body and she feels a pang of shame for such an extreme reaction to such a small thing. Beside her, Remus shifts and when he settles, he has moved closer to her, their shoulders now a hair’s breadth apart. His nearness is comforting and her wolf rumbles contentedly at his closer proximity. Hermione has to ball her hands in her lap to keep from reaching for him.

There’s a pregnant pause whilst everyone watches Lily, waiting for her reaction before she gives a sullen shrug and sits back in her chair, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. Hermione can feel the tension from James beside her; can taste the scent of his agitation and nerves as they cloy in her mouth and nose, and she feels a small pang of sympathy for him.

“So, er, pairs?” says Sirius uncomfortably, all traces of humour gone from his face, and his gaze when it moves over Hermione is a shade less than friendly and she knows then that she’s done it again; she’s alienated people with her need to be the best and her bossiness and, yes, even being a bit snobby. The know-it-all strikes again. She shrinks back in shame and shrugs her shoulders, averting her gaze to the table top.

“No idea on _that_ , Hermione?” Lily spits at her.

“Lily,” Peter and James hiss at the red-headed girl and she immediately grimaces and sinks back in her seat. Peter sends Hermione an apologetic smile.

“Why don’t we just pair up and get started?” Sirius says, running a hand wearily through his hair. “Pete, you and me can work on bases. Moony, you and Hermione can take ancillaries. Prongs, you and Lils can take the volatiles seeing as you’re the only pair with two competent potion-makers.”

“Yeah, thanks, Pads,” Peter says wryly and just like that the tension at the table seems to evaporate as they all chuckle quietly.

James smiles tremulously and brings his hands together in a quick clap. “Okay then, sorted. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Hermione stands with the others, sending a tired smile at Remus whose returning smile is warm and encouraging. But the sudden sensation of being watched forces her to turn and face Lily who is still in her seat, her face impassive but her eyes heated as they flicker back and forth between Hermione and Remus.

“Lily?” James is suddenly behind her, his fingers lightly closing over her shoulder and beside Hermione, Remus reaches out to take her own arm. Her gaze locks with Lily’s before they are both pulled away.

 

###

 

Remus moves her away to the farthest, most secluded table he can find. He keeps his hand on her arm until he’s settles her into a chair and stored both of their school bags beneath the table. He watches her, shifting subtly, nervously, from foot to foot as his eyes search her face.

“She doesn’t mean to be like that,” he says eventually. Hermione snorts.

“She doesn’t trust me,” is all she says and it’s not really an answer. Remus hesitates.

“No,” he admits. “But she has no reason to.”

“And you do?” Hermione asks, one of her eyebrows rising.

“Yes,” says Remus and he pauses for a moment a surprise steamrolls through her. “But only because you’re so new to being a werewolf that you haven’t figured out how to control anything yet. You broadcast everything.”

“Broadcast?” Remus nods.

“I can smell everything you feel.” Hermione flushes a brilliant red and a small smile quirks at the corner of Remus’ mouth. “For example: embarrassment.”

Merlin, could he really smell everything she felt? Not just her heat from earlier, but everything? What about her attraction? Can her smell that she’s keeping something from them all? It feels almost like an invasion of her privacy. Annoyance begins to prick at Hermione and her mouth things out into a hard, white line. Remus’ smile widens.

“Irritation.”

The pricks of annoyance begin to build into pressure and Hermione realises she’s starting to lose her temper again. She breaths in deep, trying to calm herself and is aggravated when she can’t identify the confusing medley of smells coming from Remus.

“Frustration.”

And he can really do this, can’t he? He can smell everything and Hermione can’t do anything but struggle through the mess of sensation, smells, sights and sounds that her senses are throwing at her.

“Fear.” His voice is gentle and questioning.

Hermione raises her eyes to meet his and his smile is still there but it’s turned gentle now. His whole expression is fond and Hermione remembers earlier, at the table when he had given her the same look, and how she had reacted then –

He’s in front of her, suddenly, crouched down and his hands gripping the arms of her chair, bracketing her in. The warm honey sensation is back, sliding slowly from her chest to pool behind her pelvis.

“That one,” says Remus and his voice is low and hoarse. “I don’t know that one.”

Hermione licks her lips, swallows loudly and watches as Remus’ eyes turn to liquid gold. “Don’t know what one?” she hears herself ask and allows her eyes to fall closed as Remus tips his head forwards and leans in towards her.

“That scent,” he growls in frustration and his breath ghosts across her neck; she shivers almost violently. She feels him press his hand to the back of her head and thread his fingers into her messy bun. “The scent you’re giving off now. I don’t know what it means. “

She allows him to pull her head back and to the side and sighs soundlessly as he drags his nose across the skin of her throat to press softly behind her ear. Hermione’s entire body feels as though it’s throbbing with heat. “But it’s my favourite one.”

She makes an indescribable noise at the back of her throat as his teeth latch onto the column of her neck. He latches lightly over her carotid, her pulse beating wildly into his mouth, and then he starts to drag it down. Slowly. Slowly.

Hermione’s hands fly up to grip at his shoulders and she allows her head to roll back and exposes her throat to him completely. Remus gives a soft groan and latches onto the front above her collar bone and sucks.

She knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, that what she’s just done is important, symbolically. To their wolves. She knows that she’s just given him something important. That he has power now, but she can’t seem to get her brain to work properly. She’s working on pure instinct at the moment and she simply matches his soft moan as he falls to his knees between her legs and tugs her closer to him by her waist. His teeth are still attached to her neck, like he’s scared to let go. His lips are soft and blisteringly hot against her skin.

He drags his lips along her neck again, around to the other side and noses behind her other ear; inhales loudly. Hermione’s head is swimming by the time he makes it to the point where her neck meets her shoulders and she whimpers softly when he licks once. Twice, and then –

He _sucks_.

Hard enough to make Hermione cry out. Hard enough to mark. Hermione tries to pull back but his hands clamp down on her hips, and his teeth dig into her skin and he begins to growl, the sound vibrating up from his chest and Hermione can do nothing but whine, a purely canine sound easing out of her throat.

She can feel him. All of him. The whole hard length of him pressed against her from chest to hips and something inside her begins to pulse in response to the feel of him.

He’s pushing her backwards, into the chair, his lips travelling up her neck again as he begins to rise, looming up over her –

“ _Ahem_.”

Quicker than a blink, they fly away from each other and a vicious growl is ripped from both of them. The hair on the back of Hermione’s neck is standing on end and her heart is beating wildly. So is Remus’, she can hear it. She spares a quick glance for his furious red face before looking to where James and Sirius are both leaning against stacks of books, their arms crossed over their chests and wicked grins spread across their lips.

“Well,” says James gleefully. “Of the three pairs, you two were the last ones I expected to catch _necking_ in the back of the library.”

Sirius frowns.

“Really?” he says and then scowls when James shrugs.

“I mean, I’ll admit, I was hoping it would be me and Evans.”

“You honestly thought there was more chance of Peter and I going at it between the stacks than these two?” Sirius seems to be genuinely offended at the very idea of it.

“I’ve seen the way you look at our Petey.” James smirks and Sirius’ face twists into a moue of distaste.

“Fuck off, Prongs, I’ve got better taste than that.”

“Yeah? That’s nice, Sirius.”

Sirius stills completely, like a hound that’s scenting a hare, before slowly and stiffly turning to face where Peter has come up behind him and James. Half a heartbeat of tense silence ensues before a stunning smile spreads across Sirius’ face.

“Don’t be a prat, Wormtail, I was only joking.”

“No, you weren’t,” says Peter. His tone calm, but Hermione can see the tense set of his lips. Sirius’ smile drops completely and is replaces with irritation.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t be a girl about this-“

“I’m not being a girl about anything. How’d you like it if you heard someone who’s meant to be your mate saying something like that about you?” Sirius snorts.

“I don’t know and I’m not likely to find out.”

Everything about Sirius in this moment is screaming arrogance and Hermione’s lip curls in disgust. James rolls his eyes and stalks away.

“Well, isn’t that good for you?” Peter tells Sirius, his mask of calm finally cracking. He’s almost sneering now and for a moment, Hermione finds herself face to face with the Peter Pettigrew of her own time. A shiver winds its way down her spine as her stomach rolls. Within an instant Remus is at her side.

“For fuck’s sake, Wormtail, you need to get over this jealo-“

“Do you two want to give it a rest?” Remus’ quiet voice cuts across Sirius and he startles as if suddenly remembering that Remus and Hermione are there. The look of betrayal that Peter flings at Remus has her insides twisting with foreboding.

For one fleeting second, it doesn’t seem hard to reconcile this Peter with the Peter she had known.

Peter makes a sound of disgust and strides away from them without sparing a glance for Hermione. Colour has risen high in his cheeks and his eyes are glassy as he spins away. The scent he leaves behind is hot and sour. Embarrassment, she realises.

They all watch Peter’s retreating form until he’s out of sight and then Sirius spins to face them, his eyebrows high on his forehead in a distinct ‘ _can-you-believe-him_?’ expression.

Indignation and anger rise up inside her. She had thought that the Sirius she had know before was selfish and entitled? God, he was nothing compared to the young man before her now.

Before she can say anything cutting, she stomps away from him and Remus and into the stacks.

She doesn’t check her speed as she’s moving and in no time at all she’s in the aisle that she’s after. She gives herself a moment to pause, to breathe in deep and to allow the soothing, familiar smell of benzaldehyde and vanillin to calm her; old book smell – there’s nothing better.

When she gets back to the table a few minutes later, Sirius is gone and Remus has just finished laying out his ink bottle, and some parchment.

“I was just about to come and make sure you didn’t get lost-“ he cuts off as he looks up and finds her walking towards him, her arms weighed down with a large pile of books. Hermione carefully slides them from her arms to the table and looks up to find Remus frowning at her.

“What?” she says self consciously and tries desperately not to remember the feel of his pouting lips against her neck.

“You learned your way around the library pretty quick,” he tells her, nodding towards the books on the table. Hermione’s eyebrows furrow for a moment before she realises that it can’t have been more than three or four minutes since she walked away from him and Sirius. Certainly not enough time for her to have found her way around the shelves if she’d only been at Hogwarts for two weeks.

Hermione shrugs and tries to keep her heartbeat steady. “It’s not hard to find your way around if you pay attention to the system.”

Her attempts at nonchalance appear to be unsuccessful as Remus’ frown deepens. “Well, yeah – but still. And I know as werewolves we get a lot enhanced abilities, but speed reading isn’t one of them.”

“Err – I know?”

“So how did you find the books so fast?” He queries motioning to the pile of books in front of them. “Pince doesn’t exactly use the Dewey decimal system. There’s got to be about fifty thousand books in here, _at least_.”

For a moment Hermione’s heart rate spikes as her mind races and panic tries to creep in, and Remus’ sharp gaze snaps back to her, the edge of his frown going from confused to suspicious. Hermione forces herself to take a deep, silent, calming breath and then shrugs.

“Like I said: the system makes sense and I knew what books I wanted.”

Before he gets a chance to respond she sits herself down at the table and grabs a book from the top of top of the pile: _The Ingredient Encyclopaedia_. She pulls the list of ancillaries towards her and flips to the glossary at the back of the book, all the while trying to valiantly ignore the heat of Remus’ glare as he stares down at her.

It seems to work, because a moment later he slips into the chair opposite her and grabs for another of the books. Hermione listens carefully to the beat of his heart until it appears to return to normal before she decides to speak.

“Does that happen often?”

“Does what happen often?” Remus asks, not looking up from his book.

“Sirius and Peter? Do they have arguments like that often?” Remus remains silent for a moment and Hermione begins to think he won’t answer when he finally looks at her with a frustrated sigh. Hermione doesn’t think it’s at her interruption to his reading.

“Sometimes Sirius is an arrogant sod. We’ve all had the sharp end of his tongue at one time or another. Pete just takes it too serious.”

Hermione gapes at him, incredulous. “And that excuses it, does it? Sirius _humiliated_ Peter today, and you and James just stood by and let him?” Remus flinches at the accusation and Hermione can see she’s struck a nerve before his face closes up.

“Look, we’ve all learned to keep out of an argument that doesn’t involve you directly. Otherwise, it ends up in a never-ending train of arguments and problems.”

A chokes, disbelieving laugh makes its way out of her throat.

“Has he ever tries to make out that he’s better than you?  Has he ever humiliated you in front of other people? The way he did Peter today.”

Immediately Remus’ face darkens and Hermione remembers that less than a year ago for him, Sirius had sent Snape down the willow to meet Werewolf!Remus. “He’s done far worse to others.”

Hermione fights against the wince trying to get out and pushes on despite her misgivings. “Yeah? And did James and Peter keep out of it or did they jump to your defence?”

The guilt that melts into his face is all the answer she needs. She scoffs.

“So it’s okay for Peter to come to _your_ rescue against Sirius, but you can’t do the same for him? Seems a bit of an unequal friendship to me.”

“It’s none of you business,” Remus growls at her, baring his teeth and in the blink of an eye Hermione is out of her chair and five feet away. She chokes back the whine trying to slide up her throat.

For a moment they stare at each other; Hermione not quite meeting his eyes and Remus aggressive, before he covers his teeth again and turns back to his book.

Hermione doesn’t sit back down. She tries to calm her breath and fights against the sudden pricking at the back of her eyes. She grabs her bag from under the table and all but flees.

She ignores Remus’ call of her name, and again ignores James’ concerned call as she flashes past the table where him, Lily and Sirius have been working. In a second, she’s breezing through the library doors and feeling like she can breathe again.

Behind her, she can hear James asking: “What the fuck was that about?” And Remus’ frustrated sigh before he replies: “Don’t worry about it.”

She picks up her speed and all but sprints down the hallway and tries to follow the lingering traces of Peter’s scent.

 

 

###

 

She finds him just over an hour later. He’s perched in the crenulations atop Gryffindor tower, his legs dangling over the edge and his back resting against the sloping, tiled roof.

Hermione realises, having to use the full extent of her enhances abilities to follow him up, that he must have changed into his animagus form to get up there.

He doesn’t say anything to her as she settles next to him; he doesn’t even look at her. He just keeps looking out over the horizon. The sun has only just set and it’s a beautiful autumn evening. The sky is a-wash with pinks, purples and reds and the clouds, looking like bruises, contort themselves into strange, fantastical shapes. It doesn’t look real; it looks like a sky from a painting. Hermione gives a deep, cathartic sigh and settles back.

They sit like that for a long time. In fact, it’s almost completely dark before Peter finally speaks – just an imperceptible different in the purple of the horizon to mark the shift into full night. “He doesn’t mean to be like that.”

Hermione feels like she’s heard that somewhere before. She scoffs.

“Even the fact that you feel the need to say that tells me just how often he does things like this.”

Peter huffs a dry laugh. “He’s just spoiled.”

“No,” Hermione says. “James is spoiled. Sirius has no regard for anyone or anything other than himself.”

“You just don’t – he’s done a lot for us all. He’s been there through a lot. He’s incredibly loyal.”

“He’s a Gryffindor,” says Hermione dryly. “That doesn’t give him license to make you feel like he’s better than you.”

“No,” says Peter softly. “It doesn’t.”

They’re silent for a moment.

“Will he apologise to you?” She can hear the soft rasp of Peter’s hair against the tile as he moves his head.

“No. He’ll let me sulk for a little while then ask me if I’ve unbunched my knickers enough to go on a kitchen run with him. Which I suppose is his way of apologising.”

Hermione can find nothing to say to that and so she doesn’t say anything. She thinks, instead, about Ron and Harry and all the times that Ron had been cruel to her; how he had never outright apologised, but instead she had felt it in the things he did. She had never doubted his friendship. So she understands where Peter is coming from, but she can’t help but feel like there’s so much more at stake here than there ever was in her friendship with Ron.

“What are you thinking about?” Peter’s voice is quiet, as though afraid to startle her.

“My friends from back home.” Hermione is horrified to find that her voice slurs through the thickness in her throat.

“Are they … alive?” There’s something careful and knowing about the way Peter phrases the question. And Hermione wants to laugh because none of her friends have been born yet.

“No,” she says. “They’re not alive.”

Peter’s hand settles on her shoulder, reassuring and warm. “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

“Thanks.”

It’s fully dark by now and a sharp breeze has settled in that is now causing them both to tense against the cold. So Hermione conjures her portable jar of flames and sets it between them.

“You know – “ Peter starts, and then cuts himself off.

Finally, Hermione turns to face him. His face is shadowed and razor sharp in the blue light of the fire. The soft sweetness is gone and the almost-cruelty of the shadowed lines on his face makes her shudder. Then he turns to face her, too, and is transformed again. His face becomes corpse-like, and desolate and it’s a look she’s seen on him before – shortly before he died.

Suddenly, Hermione wants to cry for this boy who so obviously just wants to belong.

“I know there’s something you haven’t told us yet,” he says eventually. “Something big and important.”

Hermione hesitates a moment before giving one careful nod.

“The others, they’re not quick to trust, - well, none of us are. We’re all protective of each other when it comes to new people. I don’t think we can be blamed given the way things are with the Dark Lord.”

“No,” Hermione agrees.

“But I just want you to know that whatever it is that you’re scared of? Don’t be, we won’t turn you away.”

Hermione smiles at him now. “Thanks, Pete.”

And she means it.

 

###

 

She missed dinner and she’s starving and it’s the early hours of the morning, and that’s the only reason she’s willing to even try sneaking down to the kitchens in search of some fool.

Except, she doesn’t even make it out of the common room because she finds herself faced with Sirius Black.

He’s sitting in one of the armchairs beside the almost-dead fire and his eyes shine as they catch on her coming down the stairs.

“Sirius,” she says startled. Sirius just raises an eyebrow at her.

“Where are you going?” he asks almost teasingly. Hermione’s learned better than to take Sirius at face value. She considers being sarcastic or telling him it’s none of his business but she has no patience for a fight when she wants is some food, so she shrugs instead.

“To the kitchens.”

“Where were you during dinner? Lily says you weren’t in your room?”

“What’s it to you?” Hermione asks. There’s a bite creeping into her voice now and she’s getting really fed up all the suspicion and hostility when she really hasn’t done anything to warrant it.

“Nothing, I was just wondering.”

“I was on the roof.”

“The _roof_?”

“With Peter.”

“Ah.” Sirius frowns. “Having a good old chat about what a horrible little blighter I am?”

“Yes, actually.” Hermione tries not to take any satisfaction in the wounded look that flashes across his face. He regards her for a moment before getting to his feet and taking two slow steps towards her.

“I don’t trust you,” he says.

“No, really? I had no idea,” Hermione says mildly, but the sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re hiding something from us, something big – something really important. Something fucking dangerous. And you are off your head if you think I’m going to let you anywhere near my friend without knowing what it is.”

Hermione gives a short, derisive laugh and shakes her head.

“You are, honestly, the most arrogant person I have ever met. Both you and Lily, actually.”

“Yeah? And how’s that?”

“Do I know any of _your_ secrets?”

“You know that Remus is a werewolf.” Hermione rolls her eyes.

“Newsflash! You all know that I’m one, too.”

Sirius frowns for a moment and then purses his lips and breathes aggravatedly through his nose.

“No, you don’t know any of our secrets.”

“So, what makes you think that you’re at all entitled to any of mine?”

“You’re the one that came here expecting us to trust and accept you. You want trust, you need to give as a pretty good fucking reason,” Sirius says vehemently. Hermione makes an outraged noise in the back of her throat that sounds perilously close to a growl.

“I did no such thing. You’re the ones that decided we were all going to get along and be best friends. Not me. I woke up in the hospital wing and there you all were. I expected _nothing_ from you.”

“Yeah? Well what did you want us to do? Dumbledore told us to make friends with you, so we did.”

Hermione feels a momentary pang of dismay that her perceived friendships were just a matter of obligation and duty – a favour to the headmaster. But then, what more could she really expect?

“Well, I’ve asked nothing from you, and you have no right to expect anything from me.” She pauses for a moment to look Sirius over. “You might get away with bullying what you want out of other people, but it won’t work with me.”

Suddenly Sirius’ face is inches away from her own twisted into a vicious snarl.

“ _Stay the fuck away from my friends.”_

Hermione growls low in her throat.

“If they want me to stay away from them they can tell me themselves. Until then, stay the fuck out of my business.” Then she stalks away.

She’s almost to the kitchen before she realises that Remus must have mentioned their confrontation in the library to Sirius – that’s the only reason that Sirius would approach her like this so soon after being threatened not to by Remus.

And that could only mean one thing: She had lost Remus’ trust.


End file.
